O Heauenly God, all beastes that doe remayne,
And nourisht are with foode that thou doest send,
Within the wooddes, the mountaynes, and the playne,
Thy holy hest, and lawes doe not offende.
The scudding fish that swimmes amidst the Sea,
The pretie birdes that play them in the ayre:
Sunne moone and starres, ech thing doth thee obey,
And at thy voyce doe tremble all for feare,
But man alas, yea man, whom thou doest make,
More perfect farre then all things els that liue,
Man whom thou wouldst thy proper shape to take,
To whom for guyde, thou reason eke didst geue,
And wit, and sense for to discerne aright,
What thing to take, what likewise to refuse:
He, he, vile wretch, and most vnthankefull wight,
Thy maiesty, and honour doth abuse.