George Herbert
Providence
O Sacred Providence, who from end to end Strongly and sweetly movest! shall I write, And not of thee, through whom my fingers bend To hold my quill? shall they not do thee right?
Employment (I)
If as a flower doth spread and die, Thou wouldst extend me to some good, Before I were by frost’s extremity Nipt in the bud; The sweetness and the praise were thine; But the
Peace
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, And ask’d, if Peace were there, A hollow wind did seem to answer, No:
Praise (I)
To write a verse or two is all the praise That I can raise: Mend my estate in any ways, Thou shalt have more. I go to Church; help me to wings, and I
Love (I)
Immortal love, authour of this great frame, Sprung from that beautie which can never fade; How hath man parcel’d out thy glorious name, And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made, While
The Temper (II)
It cannot be. Where is that mighty joy, Which just now took up all my heart? Lord, if thou must needs use thy dart, Save that, and me; or sin for both destroy. The
The World
Love built a stately house, where Fortune came, And spinning fancies, she was heard to say That her fine cobwebs did support the frame, Whereas they were supported by the same; But Wisdom quickly
Redemption
Having been tenant long to a rich lord, Not thriving, I resolved to be bold, And make a suit unto him, to afford A new small-rented lease, and cancel the old. In heaven at
Man
My God, I heard this day, That none doth build a stately habitation, But he that means to dwell therein. What house more stately hath there been, Or can be, than is Man? to
Repentance
Lord, I confess my sin is great; Great is my sin. Oh! gently treat With thy quick flow’r, thy momentany bloom; Whose life still pressing Is one undressing, A steady aiming at a tomb.
The Sacrifice
Oh all ye, who pass by, whose eyes and mind To worldly things are sharp, but to me blind; To me, who took eyes that I might you find: Was ever grief like mine?
Antiphon (I)
Chorus: Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing ‘My God and King.’ Verse: The heav’ns are not too high, His praise may thither fly: The earth is not too low, His praises there
The Temper
How should I praise thee, Lord! how should my rhymes Gladly engrave thy love in steel, If what my soul doth feel sometimes My soul might ever feel! Although there were some forty heav’ns,
Prayer
Prayer the Churches banquet, Angels age, Gods breath in man returning to his birth, The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgramage, The Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth; Engine against th’Almightie, sinners towre, Reversed
Bitter-Sweet
Ah, my dear angry Lord, Since thou dost love, yet strike; Cast down, yet help afford; Sure I will do the like. I will complain, yet praise; I will bewail, approve; And all my