100 Some their whole age in these inquiries waste, And die like fools before one step they've pass'd; 'Tis strange to know the way, and not t'advance; That knowledge is far worse than ignorance. The learned teach, but what they teach, not do, And standing still themselves, make others go. In vain on study time away we throw, When we forbear to act the things we know. The soldier that philosopher well blamed, Who long and loudly in the schools declaim'd; 110 'Tell' (said the soldier) 'venerable Sir, Why all these words, this clamour, and this stir? Why do disputes in wrangling spend the day, Whilst one says only yea, and t'other nay?' 'Oh,' said the doctor, 'we for wisdom toil'd, For which none toils too much.' The soldier smiled; 'You're gray and old, and to some pious use This mass of treasure you should now reduce: But you your store have hoarded in some bank, For which th'infernal spirits shall you thank.' 120 Let what thou learnest be by practice shown; 'Tis said that wisdom's children make her known. What's good doth open to th'inquirer stand, And itself offers to th'accepting hand; All things by order and true measures done, Wisdom will end, as well as she begun. Let early care thy main concerns secure, Things of less moment may delays endure: Men do not for their servants first prepare, And of their wives and children quit the care; 130 Yet when we're sick, the doctor's fetch'd in haste, Leaving our great concernment to the last. When we are well, our hearts are only set (Which way we care not) to be rich, or great; What shall become of all that we have got? We only know that us it follows not; And what a trifle is a moment's breath, Laid in the scale with everlasting death! What's time when on eternity we think! 139 A thousand ages in that sea must sink. Time's nothing but a word; a million Is full as far from infinite as one. To whom thou much dost owe, thou much must pay, Think on the debt against th'accounting day. God, who to thee reason and knowledge lent, Will ask how these two talents have been spent. Let not low pleasures thy high reason blind, He's mad, that seeks what no man e'er could find. Why should we fondly please our sense, wherein Beasts us exceed, nor feel the stings of sin? 150 What thoughts man's reason better can become, Than th'expectation of his welcome home? Lords of the world have but for life their lease, And that too (if the lessor please) must cease. Death cancels nature's bonds, but for our deeds (That debt first paid) a strict account succeeds; If here not clear'd, no suretyship can bail Condemned debtors from th'eternal jail; Christ's blood's our balsam; if that cure us here, Him, when our judge, we shall not find severe; 160 His yoke is easy when by us embraced, But loads and galls, if on our necks 'tis cast.