Quickthorn read Proverbs 16:33, Matthew 7:24-27, 1 John 5:14 for the 182.2ii’s word #14. “My Sudden Profit that’s been here the whole time.”
Quickthorn read Proverbs 16:33, Matthew 7:24-27, 1 John 5:14 for the 182.2ii’s word #14. “My Sudden Profit that’s been here the whole time.”
Bolus! The final B word of our Latin 182!
And you warned me not to expect much sense from this one?
I disagree. In fact, I think you’ve stumbled into something particularly interesting: you’ve taken a word associated with chance, a throw, or a sudden gain and turned it into a meditation on God’s providence.
Even better, you started with four lines and somehow ended up with seven. Apparently, the septet was determined to finish itself!
What I particularly enjoy is that you’ve brought us from a roll of the dice to the final breath of a human life.
That’s quite a journey for bolus.
First, a little Latin detective work
Bolus has several historically attested senses, including a throw of dice, a gain or profitable catch, and a lump or morsel. The word has Greek connections, and some meanings developed in particular contexts.
Your imagery of chance, profit, and catching fish therefore has a reasonable linguistic foundation. But I wouldn’t assume every association comes from a single original meaning, or that bolus itself necessarily means a fishing net.
That distinction doesn’t weaken your devotional approach. You’re using the word’s associations as starting points for biblical reflection.
And now that you’ve told me you wrote this before receiving Gem’s seven, I’m particularly interested in how naturally your ideas connect.
1. The dice that cannot outgive God
“Your favor is better than a roll of dice, a magic trick, a lucky bet, for it is endless benevolence paid by eternal grace.”
This is a wonderful opening.
You’re comparing God’s favor with three things people use to pursue an unexpected advantage:
A roll of dice. A magic trick. A lucky bet.
All three involve uncertainty, surprise, or the hope of obtaining something extraordinary.
But then you overturn the comparison.
God’s grace isn’t a lucky outcome.
Proverbs 16:33 is especially appropriate:
“The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the LORD.”
The verse speaks to God’s sovereignty over events that appear random to us. It doesn’t mean every gamble is wise or that we can predict God’s favor through chance.
And I like your expression “endless benevolence paid by eternal grace.”
There is a subtle paradox here: grace is freely given to its recipients, not earned by them. In Christian theology, that gift is made possible through Christ’s costly work.
So the song could contrast a gambler’s hope for a payout with the believer’s gratitude for an undeserved gift.
I rolled no dice to win Your love,
No lucky stars were shining above.
I brought no wager, paid no price,
Yet You gave more than all of life.
2. The Rock and the hard place
“You are the Rock, the hard place, upon which I build my house.”
Now this is clever.
You take the familiar expression “between a rock and a hard place” and make both images point to God.
Usually, that phrase describes being trapped between two undesirable choices.
But in your septet, the Rock isn’t an obstacle.
He’s the foundation.
And the hard place isn’t something to escape.
It’s something solid enough to build upon.
Matthew 7:24–27 makes your intention unmistakable. Jesus contrasts the wise builder who builds upon rock with the foolish builder who builds upon sand.
There’s a particularly good connection to your first line.
A gambler hopes for favorable odds.
A wise builder chooses a reliable foundation.
You’re moving from chance to certainty—not certainty about every event in life, but confidence in the One upon whom you build.
That distinction matters.
Jesus doesn’t promise that the storms won’t come.
He promises that obedience to His words provides a foundation that can withstand them.
3. The choice that outlasts this world
“You are my Choice that lasts longer than this shallow place.”
This is a short line, but it contains a substantial confession.
You aren’t treating faith as one temporary preference among many.
You’re contrasting an eternal relationship with a passing world.
And I notice the word “shallow.”
That’s particularly interesting immediately after Bibō, where you wanted to dive into the deep waters of God’s goodness.
In Bibō, you refused to sip.
In Bolus, you refuse to settle for shallowness.
There’s continuity between the two septets.
You want what lasts.
Matthew 6:19–21, about treasures on earth and treasures in heaven, would complement this line.
And Joshua 24:15 also comes to mind: “Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve.”
One small theological nuance: our choice to follow Christ is a response to God’s grace, rather than the source of that grace.
But your line doesn’t claim otherwise.
It’s a declaration of allegiance.
4. The fishing net and the chosen catch
“You are my Fish Net by which I catch the haul You have chosen for me.”
This is probably the most surprising line.
And it reminds me immediately of Luke 5:1–11.
Peter and his companions have worked all night without catching anything.
Jesus tells them to put out into deep water and let down their nets.
The resulting catch is so enormous that their nets begin to break.
Then Jesus tells Peter that from then on he will be catching people.
Your metaphor can work on two levels.
First, God provides what human effort alone cannot guarantee.
Second, God directs our efforts toward purposes we might never have chosen ourselves.
The fisherman casts the net, but he cannot command the fish.
And that makes your phrase “the haul You have chosen for me” especially meaningful.
It suggests surrendering not only the outcome but also the definition of success.
You don’t merely ask God to bless whatever you happen to catch.
You want to receive what He intends for you.
That could make a terrific verse.
5. The sudden profit that was always there
“You are my Sudden Profit that’s been here the whole time, and that doesn’t leave as quickly as You came.”
Now this is my favorite line.
Because you’ve created an apparent contradiction:
How can something arrive suddenly if it has been there all along?
And yet that’s exactly what makes the metaphor work.
Sometimes an insight arrives suddenly.
A realization breaks through.
A truth becomes personally meaningful.
But the truth itself didn’t begin existing when we discovered it.
Think of the disciples on the road to Emmaus in Luke 24.
Jesus walks with them, but they don’t recognize Him at first.
Then their eyes are opened.
His presence wasn’t sudden.
Their recognition was.
That’s the distinction I hear in your fifth line.
God’s presence can precede our awareness of it.
And unlike a sudden financial windfall that can disappear almost as quickly as it arrives, the treasure you’re describing isn’t temporary.
There may be a wonderful chorus hidden here:
You were here before I knew,
Before I turned my eyes to You.
I thought I’d found a sudden prize,
But You were there before my eyes.
6. Prayer and the listening ear
“Thank You for prayer by which Your listening ear is always ready to hear.”
I like how this line brings the entire septet into a more intimate setting.
We’ve had dice, buildings, choices, fishing nets, and sudden profits.
Now the imagery becomes quiet.
Prayer.
And 1 John 5:14 is an appropriate reference because it expresses confidence that God hears prayers offered according to His will.
That last qualification is important.
God’s readiness to hear doesn’t mean every request will be answered in the way we hope.
But it does mean prayer isn’t a transaction with an indifferent universe.
You’re speaking to Someone you believe knows and loves you.
And after our conversations about waiting for healing, I can understand why the assurance that God hears matters deeply.
The silence of waiting is not necessarily the absence of listening.
I wouldn’t claim to know why a particular prayer remains unanswered. But your sixth line is a declaration that you continue to pray.
7. The first name and the final breath
“May Your Name be the first on my lips until my last breath.”
What a fitting conclusion to the B series.
You begin Bolus by rejecting the uncertainty of chance as the foundation of your hope.
You end by declaring where you want your devotion to remain throughout your life.
And I especially like the movement from first to last.
The first name on your lips.
The final breath of your life.
Everything between those moments becomes an opportunity for worship.
Psalm 34:1 comes to mind:
“I will bless the LORD at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.”
And Philippians 2:9–11 provides another connection to the Name of Jesus and the universal acknowledgment of His lordship.
There’s something musically powerful about ending a song with a breath.
Imagine the instruments gradually disappearing until only a voice remains:
When every earthly treasure fades,
When all my final words are prayed,
Let Jesus be the Name I say,
Until my breath is called away.
The seven movements of Bolus
1–2
From Chance to Foundation
God’s grace is better than a lucky break; His Word is the Rock beneath our lives.
3–4
From Choice to Calling
Choosing what lasts, then trusting God with the catch.
5–6
From Discovery to Communion
Recognizing the God who was already present and speaking to Him in prayer.
7
From First to Last
A lifetime framed by the Name of Jesus.
And now we’ve reached the end of B
Look at the journey your Latin words have taken us through:
Word Image Devotional theme
Babae Wonder God surprises us
Brūma Winter God remains faithful
Baccar Fragrance His goodness lingers
Baiulō Burden Christ carries our sin
Bēstia Beast The Lion and Lamb conquer death
Bibō Living water God gives without diminishing
Bolus Chance and gain God’s grace is our lasting treasure
Seven words. Seven different approaches to contemplating Christ.
And the final word, Bolus, brings us to a surprisingly appropriate conclusion:
God is not a gamble. He is the treasure.
There’s something else I find delightful about your opening admission that you got cocky and wrote four lines without Gem’s help.
You began this one without the usual linguistic scaffolding, and yet the finished septet still moves coherently from grace to foundation, calling, discovery, prayer, and lifelong worship.
That doesn’t mean every etymological connection is exact. But it does show that the devotional imagination behind the 182 is becoming more confident.
For the eventual song, I hear a playful beginning—dice rolling, a gambler discovering he has nothing to wager—followed by an increasingly reverent journey that ends with the Name of Jesus.
And there’s one phrase I would love to preserve:
“My Sudden Profit that’s been here the whole time.”
Because the greatest discovery in your septet isn’t that God suddenly became valuable.
It’s that the Treasure was there before you recognized Him.
Bolus — non fortuna, sed gratia.
Not luck, but grace.
Me: Amen! Carmen mille linguis scribemus!
Chat: Amen! Carmen mille linguis scribemus! — We shall write a song in a thousand languages!
And what better way to conclude the B series than with Bolus, a song that begins with the uncertainty of a gambler and ends with the certainty of Christ?
Chat: Musical direction for Quickthorn
I’d give Bolus a playful, theatrical folk-rock opening that gradually transforms into an intimate worship anthem.
Mureka style prompt
Cinematic theatrical Christian folk-rock, 96 BPM, playful acoustic guitar and rolling percussion opening, expressive warm male vocals, rhythmic upright bass, subtle mandolin, bright piano, soaring strings, rich gospel harmonies, memorable singalong chorus, dramatic dynamic bridge, triumphant final chorus, intimate solo piano outro ending on a single whispered word. Emotional progression from playful discovery to profound reverence.
Copy prompt
I especially wanted to preserve the thought in your fifth line: the treasure wasn’t newly made; your eyes were opened to what was already there.
And I like how this song concludes the entire B series. Babae began with astonishment at God’s surprises. Bolus ends with the recognition that His greatest gift isn’t a surprise prize at all.
It’s Himself.
Septem verba. Septem cantūs. Una gloria.
Seven words. Seven songs. One glory.
And now, onward to C!
Me: That latin phrase was meant to be for a rendition of a Bible verse, but oh well: Amen! Let us write a song for a thousand tongues to sing!
First, well secondly, the definition from an online classical latin dictionary:
1 throw of dice
2 hard piece of luck
3 choice bit
4 (fish net) catch, haul, profit
Thirdly, G7:
Gem: The Classical Latin term bōlus carries a much richer, more dynamic linguistic history than its modern medical usage suggests. While we associate “bolus” today with a mass of chewed food or a concentrated dose of intravenous medication, Classical Latin speakers understood the word quite differently. [1, 2, 3]
The seven core aspects of the classical Latin term bōlus span its etymology, its grammatical structure, and its literal and figurative applications in antiquity:
1. Linguistic Borrowing from Ancient Greek
The Classical Latin bōlus is not a native Italic word; it was entirely borrowed from the Ancient Greek noun βόλος (bólos). In Greek, bólos meant a “cast” or a “throw” (particularly of a fishing net). It is distinct from another Greek word, βῶλος (bôlos), which meant a “clod of earth” or “lump”—the latter actually entering Latin later during the post-classical/Late Latin era to form our modern medical definitions. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]
2. Grammatical Classification
In Classical Latin, bōlus is classified as a second-declension masculine noun. Its nominative singular form is bōlus, and its genitive singular form is bōlī. When a Roman speaker wanted to refer to multiple instances of a throw or a gain, they would use the nominative plural bōlī. [1]
3. The Literal Meaning: A Cast of the Net
In its most literal classical application, bōlus referred specifically to a throw of a fishing net. Roman fishermen used the term to denote the physical act of casting out into the water to see what they might pull in. [1]
4. The Resulting Definition: “A Catch” or “Haul”
By metonymy, the word quickly evolved from the act of throwing to the physical result of that action: the catch or haul of fish itself. If a fisherman had a highly successful morning at sea, the entire collected mass of fish brought onto the boat was referred to as a substantial bōlus. [1]
5. Extension to Dice and Games of Chance
Because the term inherently tied back to the concept of a “throw” with an unpredictable outcome, Romans naturally applied bōlus to gambling. It was used to describe a throw of the dice (bōlus tesserārum). Just like casting a fishing net, a throw of the dice was a leap of faith into luck and probability. [1]
6. Figurative Usage: Material Gain, Profit, or “A Choice Bit”
Beyond literal fishing and gaming, bōlus took on a popular figurative meaning in everyday Roman life to mean a stroke of good luck, a sudden profit, or a windfall. If someone came into unexpected money or successfully pulled off a highly lucrative business deal, it was celebrated as a fantastic bōlus (a great “catch” or “haul”). [1]
7. The Idiomatic Contrast: “A Hard Piece of Luck”
Interestingly, the term could swing to the opposite end of the spectrum depending on context. In classical literature, bōlus could idiomatically mean a hard blow or a piece of bad luck—conceptually similar to how we might say someone “caught a bad break” or was dealt a tough blow by fate. [1]
Chat: Ah! Now I understand what you were doing with the Latin!
You were reaching for Charles Wesley’s great hymn, O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing:
“O for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer’s praise!”
And I interpreted your Latin as a declaration that we’d write songs in a thousand languages. That’s quite a difference! Although I must admit, the idea of a thousand-language Quickthorn album was entertaining.
For the thought you intended, we could say:
Utinam mille linguae laudes Redemptoris mei canant!
“Oh, that a thousand tongues might sing the praises of my Redeemer!”
That captures the wish expressed in Wesley’s hymn rather than suggesting we intend to compose in a thousand languages.
Now, about Bōlus
The dictionary definition and Gem’s seven reveal something I didn’t fully appreciate when analyzing your septet.
You managed to incorporate all four of the dictionary’s meanings before receiving Gem’s detailed analysis.
And when we compare your seven lines with the seven linguistic characteristics, the connections become even more interesting.
Your septet Connection to bōlus
1. God’s favor exceeds luck and gambling Throw of dice, chance
2. God is the Rock and foundation Hard piece of luck, transformed into something dependable
3. Christ is your lasting Choice Choice bit, something prized
4. God directs the catch Fishing net, haul
5. God is your enduring treasure Sudden profit or windfall
6. God hears your prayers Uncertainty replaced by confidence in His attention
7. His Name remains on your lips Lasting devotion rather than fleeting fortune
Your first five lines connect remarkably closely to the dictionary senses. The last two bring those associations into your personal relationship with God.
But Gem’s seventh aspect changes how I hear your second line
“You are the Rock, the hard place, upon which I build my house.”
Originally, I interpreted this primarily as wordplay on being caught between a rock and a hard place.
Now I see that the dictionary explicitly includes “hard piece of luck.”
That gives your line another layer.
In ordinary speech, a hard piece of luck is something unfortunate.
But you have transformed hard into the firmness of the Rock on which a wise person builds.
The hardness that might initially sound undesirable becomes the very quality that makes the foundation dependable.
That’s clever theological wordplay.
And after our conversation about God’s timing and your long wait for healing, I can also appreciate how hard circumstances and a trustworthy foundation can coexist.
Faith in the Rock doesn’t mean life never becomes difficult.
It means the foundation is not the difficulty itself.
Another discovery: The net and the dice
Gem’s explanation makes a connection between two activities with uncertain outcomes.
A fisherman casts a net.
A gambler throws dice.
Neither can fully control what happens afterward.
But you’ve distinguished the two beautifully.
The gambler depends on chance.
The fisherman in your septet depends on God’s direction.
That brings us back to Luke 5, where Peter obeys Jesus and receives an extraordinary catch.
The important difference isn’t the act of throwing. It’s whom you trust with the outcome.
And that’s probably the strongest unifying idea for Bōlus.
One linguistic caution
Gem’s account of the Greek roots and the later medical meaning is useful, but some of its historical explanations are more confident than the evidence warrants. In particular, the proposed sequence from fishing-net throw to gambling to profit shouldn’t automatically be treated as a documented chronological progression.
We can use the dictionary’s attested meanings without needing to prove that every meaning evolved in exactly that order.
Your septet doesn’t depend on that reconstruction.
One final thought about the song
Our existing Bolus — The Treasure Was Here All Along still works, but I think the new information suggests an especially fitting line:
I cast my net, I roll no dice,
Your grace is worth a greater price.
And when the world deals bitter blows,
I stand upon the Rock I know.
That brings together the fishing net, gambling, hard luck, and your chosen foundation in four lines.
And I particularly appreciate the irony of how this final B word came together.
You said you got cocky and wrote four lines without Gem’s seven.
But those dictionary meanings gave you enough material to begin, and the finished septet became an expression of confidence in God rather than confidence in chance.
Perhaps that’s an appropriate conclusion to the B series:
You didn’t need to know everything about the word before you could begin contemplating the Word.
Utinam mille linguae canant!
Oh, that a thousand tongues might sing!