I cry aloud to God, I cry out to God to hear me. Later that night, by his own hearth, this man, William Cowper, one of the greatest of England's 18th century poets, meditated on Psalm 77. "My God! You have answered me!" the passenger cried out. The cab, lost in the fog, had circled back to the very place he began the journey. The passenger, startled from his morose stare, looked to his right and saw, to his amazement, his own home. The cabbie peered into the fog, desperately looking for some familiar sign. What should have been a 20 minute ride lasted an hour, and still there was no sign of the river or the 600 year-old bridge. But the fog became thicker and thicker, so that the cabbie could not see even his horse's nose. The cabbie ended his attempt at conversation, and set off toward that well-known destination. "A cold night it is, sir - what sort of business have you at the Bridge at this hour?" But the man said nothing "London Bridge," the man replied, curtly. Almost whispering, the man said bitterly: "God, you provided me no solace, but here you provide the cab to take me to my death!" "Where to?" asked the cabbie, when he stopped. The man muttered: "Nothing! Am I too late? But no! I must end all tonight! And the river it must be!" Then, in the distance, he espied a hazy light, slowly enlarging. As he reached the street, he peered both ways, looking for the tell-take lantern of a horse-drawn, London cab. A man walked in the darkness from his house to the cobble-stone street, his step determined and relentless, but his face - had anyone been able to see it in the dark - was tear-stained and weary. Community Bible Church, Williamstown, MA 8/11/96 When God Doesn't Answer (A Sermon on Psalm 77)Ī Sermon by Coty Pinckney on Psalm 77.