Like as a ship, that through the ocean wyde
Directs her course unto one certain cost.
Is met of many a counter winde and tyde,
With which her winged speed is let and crost,
And she her selfe in stormie surges tost;
Yet making many a borde, and many a bay,
Still winneth way, he hath her compasse lost;
Right so it fares with me in this long way,
Whose course is often stayd, yet never is astray.