The Altar from the Temple
A broken A L T A R, Lord, thy servant reares,
Made of a heart, and cemented with teares: Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workmans tool hath touch’d the same. A H E A R T alone Is such a stone, As nothing but Thy pow’r doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart Meets in this frame, To praise thy Name; That, if I chance to hold my peace, These stones to praise thee may not cease.
O let thy blessed S A C R I F I C E be mine,
And sanctifie this A L T A R to be - the original form of this
Form: couplets4.
See Exodus 20:22. 14.
See Luke 10:40.
George Herbert
Other author posts
Clasping Of Hands
Lord, Thou art mine, and I am Thine, If mine I am: and Thine much more Then I or ought, or can be mine Yet to be Thine, doth me restore; So that again I now am mine, And with advantage mine the more Since this being mine, brings wit...
Bitter-Sweet
Ah, my deare angrie Lord, Since thou dost love, yet strike; Cast down, yet help afford; Sure I will do the like
Sinnes Round
Sorrie I am, my God, sorrie I am, That my offences course it in a ring My thoughts are working like a busie flame, Untill their cockatrice they hatch and bring:
Josephs Coat
Wounded I sing, tormented I indite, Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest: Sorrow hath chang'd its note: such is his will Who changeth all things, as him pleaseth best For well he knows, if but one grief and smart Among my many ha...
