My flesh trembleth for feare of thee, and I am afraid of thy judgements.
Let others boast of Luck: and go their wayes
With their faire Game; Know, vengeance seldome playes,
To be too forward; but does wisely frame
Her backward Tables, for an After-Game:
She gives thee leave to venture many a blot;
And, for her owne advantage, hits thee not;
But when her pointed Tables are made faire,
That she be ready for thee, then beware;
Then, if a necessary blot be set,
She hits thee; wins the Game; perchance the Set:
If prosperous Chances make thy Casting high,
Be wisely temp'rate; cast a serious eye
On after-dangers, and keep back thy Game;
Too forward seed-times make thy Harvest lame:
If left-hand Fortune give thee left-hand chances,
Be wisely patient; let no envious glances
Repine to view thy Gamesters heape so faire;
The hindmost Hound takes oft the doubling Hare:
The worlds great Dice are false; sometimes they goe
Extremely high; sometimes, extremely low:
Of all her Gamesters, he that playes the least,
Lives most at ease; playes most secure, and best:
The way to win, is to play faire, and sweare
Thy selfe a servant to the Crowne of Feare:
Feare is the Primmer of a Gamsters skill;
Who feares not Bad, stands most unarm'd to Ill:
The Ill that's wisely fear'd, is halfe withstood;
And feare of Bad is the best foyle to Good:
True Feare's th'Elixar, which, in dayes of old,
Turn'd leaden Crosses into Crownes of Gold:
The World's the Table; Stakes, Eternall life;
The Gamesters, Heav'n and I; Unequall strife!
My Fortunes are my Dice, whereby I frame
My indisposed Life: This Life's the Game;
My sins are sev'rall Blots, the Lookers on
Are Angels; and in death, the Game is done:
Lord, I'm a Bungler, and my Game does grow
Still more and more unshap'd; my Dice run low:
The Stakes are great; my carelesse Blots are many;
And yet, thou passest by, and hitst not any:
Thou art too strong; And I have none to guide me
With the least Jogge; The lookers on deride me;
It is a Conquest, undeserving Thee,
To win a Stake from such Wormes as mee:
I have no more to lose; If we persever,
'Tis lost; and, that, once lost, I'm lost for ever.
Lord, wink at faults, and be not too severe,
And I will play my Game, ere Feare has past her date:
Whose blot being hit, then feares; feare's then, too late.
S. BERN. Ser. 54 in Cant.
There is nothing so effectuall to obtaine Grace, to retaine Grace, and to
regaine Grace, as alwayes to be found before God not over-wise, but to feare:
Happy art thou if thy heart be replenished with three feares, a feare for
received Grace, a greater feare for lost Grace, a greatest feare to recover Grace.
S. AUGUST. super Psalm.
Present feare begets eternall security: Feare God, which above all, and no
need to feare man at all.
