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XI. PSALMS LXIX. XV.

Let not the water-flood over-flow me, neither let the deepes swallow me up.

The world's a Sea; my flesh, a ship, that's man'd
With lab'ring Thoughts; and steer'd by Reasons hand:
My heart's the Sea-mans Card, whereby she sailes;
My loose Affections are the greater Sailes:
The Top-saile is my Fancy; and the Gusts
That fill these wanton Sheets, are worldly Lusts.
Pray'r is the Cable, at whose end appeares
The Anchor Hope, nev'r slipt but in our feares:
My Will's th'unconstant Pilot, that commands
The staggring Keele; my Sinnes are like the Sands.
Repentance is the Bucket; and mine Eye
The Pumpe, unus'd (but in extreames) and dry.
My conscience is the Plummet, that does presse
The deepes, but seldome cryes, A fathom lesse:
Smooth Calm's security; The Gulph, despaire;
My Freight's Corruption, and this Life's my Fare:
My soule's the Passenger, confusedly driven
From feare to fright; her landing Port, is Heaven.
My seas are stormy, and my Ship does leake;
My Saylers rude: My Steersman faint and weake:
My Canvace torne, it flaps from side to side;
My Cable's crackt; my Anchor's slightly ty'd;
My Pilot's craz'd; my shipwrack sands are cloak'd;
My Calm's deceitfull; and my Gulph too neare;
My wares are slubber'd; and my Fare's too deare:
My Plummet's light, it cannot sink nor sound;
O shall my Rock-bethreatned Soule be drown'd?
Lord still the seas, and shield my ship from harme;
Instruct my saylours; guide my Steersmans Arme;
Touch thou my Compasse, and renew my Sailes;
Send stiffer courage, or send milder gales;
Make strong my Cable; bind my Anchor faster;
Direct my Pilot, and be thou his Master;
Object the Sands to my more serious view,
Make sound my Bucket; bore my Pumpe anew;
New cast my Plummet, make it apt to try
Where the Rocks lurke, and where the Quicksands lie;
Guard thou the Gulph, with love; my Calmes, with Care;
Cleanse thou my Freight; accept my slender Fare;
Refresh the sea-sick passenger; cut short
His Voyage; land him in his wished Port:
Thou, thou, whom winds and stormy seas obay,
That, through the deeps, gav'st grumbling Isr'ell way,
Say to my soule, be safe; and then mine eye
Shall scorne grim death, although grim death stand by;
O thou whose strength-reviving Arme did cherish
Thy sinking Peter, at the point to perish,
Reach forth thy hand, or bid me tread the Wave,
Ile come, Ile come, The voice that cals will save.

S. AMBROS. Apol. post. pro David. Cap. 3.

The confluence of lusts makes a great Tempest, which in this sea disturbes the sea-faring soule, that reason cannot governe it.

S. AUGUST. Soliloq. Cap. 35.

We labour in a boysterous sea: Thou standest upon the shore and seest our dangers: Give us grace to hold a middle course betwixt Scylla and Charybdis, that both dangers escaped, we may arrive at our Port, secure.

EPIGRAM 11.

[My soule; the seas are rough; and thou a stranger]

My soule; the seas are rough; and thou a stranger
In these false coasts; O keep aloofe; there's danger:
Cast forth thy Plummet; see a rock appeares;
Thy ship wants sea-roome; Make it with thy teares.