George Herbert

Who would have thought my shrivel'd heart

Could have recovered greenness?

Whereas if the heart be moved,

Although the verse be somewhat scant,

God doth supply the want.

Surely if each saw another's heart,

There would be no commerce,

No sale or bargain pass: all would disperse,

And live apart.

I struck the board, and cry'd, No more.

I will abroad.

What? shall I ever sigh and pine?

My lines and life are free; free as the road,

Loose as the wind, as large as store.

Shall I be still in suit?

Have I no harvest but a thorn

To let me blood, and not restore

What I have lost with cordial fruit?

Sure there was wine

Before my sighs did dry it: there was corn

Before my tears did drown it;

Is the year only lost to me?

Have I no bays to crown it?

But as I rav'd and grew more fierce and wild

At every word,

Methought I heard one calling, Child!

And I reply'd, My Lord.

The fineness which a hymn or psalm affords

If when the soul unto the lines accords.

Throw away thy rod;

Though man frailties hath,

Thou art God:

Throw away thy wrath.

Let him be rich and weary, that at least,

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness

May toss him to my breast.

Teach me, my God and King,

In all things thee to see

And what I do in any thing,

To do it as for thee.

Thou tarriest, while I die,

And fall to nothing: thou dost reign,

And rule on high,

While I remain

In bitter grief: yet I am styl'd

Thy child.

Then let wrath remove;

Love will do the deed:

For with love

Stony hearts will bleed.

Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,

Guilty of dust and sin.

But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack

From my first entrance in,

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,

If I lacked any thing.