XVII. Humphrey Gifford

Metaphorically Compared to a Shippe Sayling on the Seaes in a Tempest.

HASTE homewardes, man; draw neerer to the shore:

The skies doe scowle, the windes doe blow amaine;

The raged rockes with rumbling noyse doe rore,

The foggie clowdes doe threaten stormes of raine:

Ech thing foreshowes a tempest is at hand;

Hoyst up thy sayles, and haste to happy land.

In worldly seaes thy silly ship is tost,

With waues of woe besette on euery side,

Blowne heere and there in daunger to bee lost:

Darke clowdes of sinne doe cause thee wander wide:

Unlesse thy God pitie some on thee take,

On rockes of rueth thou needes must shipwrack make.

Cut downe the mast of rancour and debate;

Unfraight the shippe of all vnlawfull wares;

Cast ouerboorde the packes of hoorded hate;

Pumpe out fowle vice, the cause of many cares;

If that some leeke it make thee stand in doubt,

Repentaunce serues to stoppe the water out.

Let God’s pure word thy line and compasse bee;

And stedfast fayth vse thou in anckor’s steede:

Lament thy sinnes; then shalt thou shortly see

That power diuine will helpe thee forth at neede.

Fell Sathan is chiefe rular of these seaes—

Hee seekes our wracke; hee doth these tempestes rayse.

In what wee may, let vs alwayes represse

The furious waues of lust and fond desire:

A quiet calme our conscience shall possesse,

If wee doe that which dutie doeth require:

By godly life in fine obtaine wee shall

The porte of blisse; to which God send vs all!