It leaves my soul no anch'rage but my creed;
Where my faith, resting on th' original,
Supports itself in this, the copy's fall.
So while my faith floats on that bloody wood,
My reason 's cast away in this red flood
Which near o'erflows us all. Those showers past
10Made but land-floods, which did some valleys waste.
This stroke hath cut the only neck of land
Which between us and this red sea did stand,
That covers now our world which curséd lies