George Herbert

Rise heart; thy lord is risen
Sing his praise                     Without delayes,
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise                     With him mayst rise:
That, as his death calcinèd thee to dust,

Lord how couldst thou so much
Thy wrath for sinne, as when mans sight was dimme,
And could see little, to regard his ease,      And bring by Faith all things to him
Hungrie I was, and had no meat:

While that my soul repairs to her devotion,
Here I entombe my flesh, that it
May take acquaintance of this heap of dust;
To which the blast of death's incessant motion,

When my devotions could not pierce Thy silent ears;
Then was my heart broken, as was my verse: My breast was full of fears And disorder: My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow, Did flie asunder:
Each took his way; some would to pleasures g...

O who will give me tears
Come, all ye springs,
Dwell in my head and eyes: come, clouds and rain:
My grief hath need of all the watry things,

After all pleasures as I rid one day, My horse and I, both tir'd, bodie and minde, With full crie of affections, quite astray;
I took up the next inne I could finde
There when I came, whom found I but my deare, My dearest Lord, expecting...

Lord,
Who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more, Till he became Most poore: With Thee O let me rise, As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day Thy victories:
Then shall the fall furt...

Ah, my deare angrie Lord,
Since thou dost love, yet strike;
Cast down, yet help afford;
Sure I will do the like

Sweetest of sweets,
I thank you: when displeasure Did through my bodie wound my minde,
You took me thence; and in your house of pleasure A daintie lodging me assign'd
Now I in you without a bodie move, Rising and falling with your w...

A wreathed garland of deserved praise,
Of praise deserved, unto thee I give,
I give to thee, who knowest all my wayes,
My crooked winding wayes, wherein I live,

Who reade a chapter when they rise,
Shall ne're be troubled with ill eyes
A poore man's rod, when thou dost ride,
Is both a weapon and a guide

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...