I cannot skill of these thy ways. Lord, thou didst make me, yet thou woundest me; Lord, thou dost wound me… — George Herbert
I cannot skill of these thy ways.
Lord, thou didst make me, yet thou woundest me;
Lord, thou dost wound me, yet thou dost relieve me:
Lord, thou relievest, yet I die by thee:
Lord, thou dost kill me, yet thou dost reprieve me.But when I mark my life and praise,
Thy justice me most fitly praise:
For, I do praise thee, yet I praise thee not:
My prayers mean thee, yet my prayers stray:
I would do well, yet sin the hand hath got:
My soul doth love thee, yet it loves delay.
I cannot skill of these my ways.
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More from this book
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.
Thy rope of sands,
Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee
Good cable, to enforce and draw,
And be thy law,
While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.

