So his love to Christ endure?
When the shore is won at last,
Who will count the billows past?
The first four lines resemble a stanza of Wither, one of the Roundhead poets (1632):—
Whether thrallèd or exiled,
Whether poor or rich thou be,
Whether praisèd or reviled,
Not a rush it is to thee:
This nor that thy rest doth win thee.
But the mind that is within thee.