V. Barnaby Barnes

FORTRESSE of hope, anchour of faithfull zeale,

Rocke of affiance, bulwarke of sure trust,

In whom all nations for salvation must

Put certaine confidence of their soules’ weale:

Those sacred misteries, deare Lord! reveale

Of that large volume, righteous and just.

From mee, though blinded with this earthly dust,

Doe not those gracious misteries conceale:

That I by them, as from some beamesome lampe,

May find the bright and true direction

To my soule blinded, marching to that campe

Of sacred soldiours,—whose protection

Hee that victorious on a white horse rideth

Taketh, and evermore triumphant guideth.