A missive’s filled with compliments; all mere clap-trap.
Bland messages, smooth words, are but a hook or snare.
Civility’s a sandbank; life’s bark’s oft wrecked there,
The sand from which a spring of water’s seen to flow
Is rare to find. Go, seek such. Where? I do not know.170
Yes, yes! Be sure that sand’s a holy man of God,
Unto himself lost, rapt, in union with his Lord.
Religion’s crystal waters flow from him apace;
Disciples thence are edified and grow in grace.
A worldling is a sandbank, void of moisture quite,