 | A New Spring of Divine Poetrie |  |
A Meditation on a Shippe.
Marke how the floting vessell shewes her prideAnd is extold with every lofty tide;
But when it ebbes, and all the floods retire
See how the bragging barke is plungd in mire:
Iust so good God, how apt are we to swim
When mercies fill our banckes unto the brim?
When worldly wealth appeares, and we can see
Such outward blessings flow: then who but we?
But when it ebbes, and thou dost once unlinke
These mercies from us: O how soone we sinke;
Good God let not the great estate possesse
Me with presumption, nor despaire the lesse:
Let me not sinke when such an ebbe appeares,
No, let me swim in true repentant teares:
| A New Spring of Divine Poetrie | |