Book IV, 52: On Sins and Blessings

We write thy common Blessings, Lord, upon
A sliding streame; no sooner writ, but gon:
Thy more illustrious Favors we entrust
To the dry Sand, defac'd with ev'ry Gust:
But, Lord, our Scrowle of Sins are written downe
On during Marble, or some harder stone;
And our extreame mis-doings are thought good
To be inscrib'd, like Draco's Lawes, in blood:
Lord, let us change our Tables, or our Story,
And we shall have more Comfort; Thou, more Glory.