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The life of man metaphorically compa∣red to a shippe, sayling on the seaes in a tempest.
HAste homewardes, man, draw néerer 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 foreshewes a tempest is at hand,
Hoyst vp thy sayles, and haste to happy land.
In worldly seaes thy silly ship is tost:
With waues of woe besette on euery side,
Blowne héere, and there, in daunger to bée lost:
Darke clowdes of sinne doe cause thée wander wide,
Vnlesse thy God pitie some on thée take,
On rockes of rueth, thou néedes must shipwrack make.
Cut downe the mast of rancour and debate,
Vnfraight the shippe of all vnlawfull wares:
Cast ouer boorde the packes of hoorded hate,
Pumpe out fowle vice, the cause of many cares.
If that some léeke, it make thée stand in doubt,
Repentaunce serues, to stoppe the water out.
Let Gods pure word thy line and compasse bée,
And stedfast fayth vse, thou in anckors stéede:
Lament thy sinnes, then shalt thou shortly sée,
That power diuine, will helpe thée forth at néede.
Fell Sathan is chiefe rular of these seas:
Hée séekes our wracke, hée doth these tempestes rayse.
In what wée may let vs alwayes represse,
The furious waues of lust and fond desire: