A Lamb Appears A Lion, And We

Fear Nothing But What Thy Industry May Prevent; Be Confident Of Nothing But What Fortune Cannot Defeat; It Is No Less Folly To Fear What Is Impossible To Be Avoided Than To Be Secure When There Is A Possibility To Be Deprived.

Yet, Sluggard, Wake, And Gull Thy Soul No More With Earth's False Pleasures, And The World's Delight, Whose Fruit Is Fair And Pleasing To The Sight, But Sour In Taste, False As The Putrid Core: Thy Flaring Glass Is Gems At Her Half Light; She Makes Thee Seeming Rich, But Truly Poor: She Boasts A Kernel, And Bestows A Shell; Performs An Inch Of Her Fair-promis'd Ell: Her Words Protest A Heav'n; Her Works Produce A Hell.

Nothing Is More Pleasing To God Than An Open Hand, And A Closed Mouth.

If Thy Desire To Raise Thy Fortunes Encourage Thy Delights To The Casts Of Fortune, Be Wise Betimes, Lest Thou Repent Too Late; What Thou Gettest, Thou Gainest By Abused Providence; What Thou Losest, Thou Losest By Abused Patience; What Thou Winnest Is Prodigally Spent; What Thou Losest Is Prodigally Lost; It Is An Evil Trade That Prodigally Drives; And A Bad Voyage Where The Pilot Is Blind.

How Is The Anxious Soul Of Man Befool'd In His Desire, That Thinks An Hectic Fever May Be Cool'd In Flames Of Fire?