George Herbert- Collected Poetical Works

by George Herbert

When I did pray.

  And should God’s ear

  To such indifferents chainèd be,

  Who do not their own motions hear?

  Is God less free? 20

  But stay! what’s there?

  Late when I would have something done,

  I had a motion to forbear,

  Yet I went on.

  And should God’s ear, 25

  Which needs not man, be ti’d to those

  Who hear not him, but quickly hear

  His utter foes?

  Then once more pray:

  Down with thy knees, up with thy voice. 30

  Seek pardon first, and God will say,

  Glad heart rejoice.

  DIVINITY.

  As men, for fear the stars should sleep and nod,

  And trip at night, have spheres suppli’d;

  As if a star were duller than a clod,

  Which knows his way without a guide:

  Just so the other heav’n they also serve, 5

  Divinity’s transcendent sky:

  Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve.

  Reason triumphs, and faith lies by.

  Could not that wisdom, which first broach’d the wine,

  Have thicken’d it with definitions? 10

  And jagg’d his seamless coat, had that been fine,

  With curious questions and divisions?

  But all the doctrine, which he taught and gave,

  Was clear as heav’n, from whence it came.

  At least those beams of truth, which only save, 15

  Surpass in brightness any flame.

  Love God, and love your neighbour. Watch and pray.

  Do as ye would be done unto.

  O dark instructions; ev’n as dark as day!

  Who can these Gordian knots undo? 20

  But he doth bid us take his blood for wine.

  Bid what he please; yet I am sure,

  To take and taste what he doth there design,

  Is all that saves, and not obscure.

  Then burn thy Epicycles, foolish man; 25

  Break all thy spheres, and save thy head.

  Faith needs no staff of flesh, but stoutly can

  To heav’n alone both go, and lead.

  EPHES. 4:30. GRIEVE NOT THE HOLY SPIRIT, & C.

  And art thou grievèd, sweet and sacred Dove,

  When I am sour,

  And cross thy love?

  Grievèd for me? the God of strength and power

  Griev’d for a worm, which when I tread, 5

  I pass away and leave it dead?

  Then weep mine eyes, the God of love doth grieve:

  Weep foolish heart,

  And weeping live:

  For death is dry as dust. Yet if ye part, 10

  End as the night, whose sable hue

  Your sins express; melt into dew.

  When saucy mirth shall knock or call at door,

  Cry out, Get hence,

  Or cry no more. 15

  Almighty God doth grieve, he puts on sense:

  I sin not to my grief alone,

  But to my God’s too; he doth groan.

  O take thy lute, and tune it to a strain,

  Which may with thee 20

  All day complain.

  There can no discord but in ceasing be.

  Marbles can weep; and surely strings

  More bowels have, than such hard things.

  Lord, I adjudge myself to tears and grief, 25

  Ev’n endless tears

  Without relief.

  If a clear spring for me no time forbears,

  But runs, although I be not dry;

  I am no Crystal, what shall I? 30

  Yet if I wail not still, since still to wail

  Nature denies;

  And flesh would fail,

  If my deserts were masters of mine eyes:

  Lord, pardon, for thy son makes good 35

  My want of tears with store of blood.

  THE FAMILY.

  What doth this noise of thoughts within my heart

  As if they had a part?

  What do these loud complaints and puling fears,

  As if there were no rule or ears?

  But, Lord, the house and family are thine, 5

  Though some of them repine.

  Turn out these wranglers, which defile thy seat:

  For where thou dwellest all is neat.

  First Peace and Silence all disputes control,

  Then Order plays the soul; 10

  And giving all things their set forms and hours,

  Makes of wild woods sweet walks and bowers.

  Humble Obedience near the door doth stand,

  Expecting a command:

  Than whom in waiting nothing seems more slow, 15

  Nothing more quick when she doth go.

  Joys oft are there, and griefs as oft as joys;

  But griefs without a noise:

  Yet speak they louder than distemper’d fears.

  What is so shrill as silent tears? 20

  This is thy house, with these it doth abound:

  And where these are not found,

  Perhaps thou com’st sometimes, and for a day;

  But not to make a constant stay.

  THE SIZE.

  Content thee, greedy heart.

  Modest and moderate joys to those, that have

  Title to more hereafter when they part,

  Are passing brave.

  Let th’ upper springs into the low 5

  Descend and fall, and thou dost flow.

  What though some have a fraught

  Of cloves and nutmegs, and in cinnamon sail;

  If thou hast wherewithal to spice a draught,

  When griefs prevail; 10

  And for the future time art heir

  To th’ Isle of spices? Is’t not fair?

  To be in both worlds full

  Is more than God was, who was hungry here.

  Wouldst thou his laws of fasting disannul? 15

  Enact good cheer?

  Lay out thy joy, yet hope to save it?

  Wouldst thou both eat thy cake, and have it?

  Great joys are all at once;

  But little do reserve themselves for more: 20

  Those have their hopes; these what they have renounce,

  And live on score:

  Those are at home; these journey still,

  And meet the rest on Sion’s hill.

  Thy Saviour sentenc’d joy, 25

  And in the flesh condemn’d it as unfit,

  At least in lump: for such doth oft destroy;

  Whereas a bit

  Doth ‘tice us on to hopes of more,

  And for the present health restore. 30

  A Christian’s state and case

  Is not a corpulent, but a thin and spare,

  Yet active strength: whose long and bony face

  Content and care

  Do seem to equally divide, 35

  Like a pretender, not a bride.

  Wherefore sit down, good heart;

  Grasp not at much, for fear thou losest all.

  If comforts fell according to desert,

  They would great frosts and snows destroy: 40

  For we should count, since the last joy.

  Then close again the seam,

  Which thou hast open’d: do not spread thy robe

  In hope of great things. Call to mind thy dream,

  An earthly globe, 45

  On whose meridian was engraven,

  These seas are tears, and heav’n the haven.

  ARTILLERY.

  As I one ev’ning sat before my cell,

  Methoughts a star did shoot into my lap.

  I rose, and shook my clothes, as knowing well,

  That from small fires comes oft no small mishap.

  When suddenly I heard one say, 5

  Do as thou usest, disobey,

  Expel good motions from thy breast,

  Which have the face
of fire, but end in rest.

  I, who had heard of music in the spheres,

  But not of speech in stars, began to muse: 10

  But turning to my God, whose ministers

  The stars and all things are; If I refuse,

  Dread Lord, said I, so oft my good;

  Then I refuse not ev’n with blood

  To wash away my stubborn thought: 15

  For I will do, or suffer what I ought.

  But I have also stars and shooters too,

  Born where thy servants both artilleries use.

  My tears and prayers night and day do woo,

  And work up to thee; yet thou dost refuse. 20

  Not but I am (I must say still)

  Much more oblig’d to do thy will,

  Than thou to grant mine: but because

  Thy promise now hath ev’n set thee thy laws.

  Then we are shooters both, and thou dost deign 25

  To enter combat with us, and contest

  With thine own clay. But I would parley fain:

  Shun not my arrows, and behold my breast.

  Yet if thou shunnest, I am thine:

  I must be so, if I am mine. 30

  There is no articling with thee:

  I am but finite, yet thine infinitely.

  CHURCH-RENTS AND SCHISMS.

  Brave rose, (alas!) where art thou? in the chair

  Where thou didst lately so triumph and shine,

  A worm doth sit, whose many feet and hair

  Are the more foul, the more thou wert divine.

  This, this hath done it, this did bite the root 5

  And bottom of the leaves: which when the wind

  Did once perceive, it blew them under foot,

  Where rude unhallow’d steps do crush and grind

  Their beauteous glories. Only shreds of thee,

  And those all bitten, in thy chair I see. 10

  Why doth my Mother blush? is she the rose,

  And shows it so? Indeed Christ’s precious blood

  Gave you a colour once; which when your foes

  Thought to let out, the bleeding did you good,

  And made you look much fresher than before. 15

  But when debates and fretting jealousies

  Did worm and work within you more and more,

  Your colour vaded, and calamities

  Turnèd your ruddy into pale and bleak:

  Your health and beauty both began to break. 20

  Then did your sev’ral parts unloose and start:

  Which when your neighbours saw, like a north-wind,

  They rushèd in, and cast them in the dirt

  Where Pagans tread. O Mother dear and kind,

  Where shall I get me eyes enough to weep, 25

  As many eyes as stars? since it is night,

  And much of Asia and Europe fast asleep,

  And ev’n all Afric’; would at least I might

  With these two poor ones lick up all the dew,

  Which falls by night, and pour it out for you! 30

  JUSTICE II.

  O dreadful Justice, what a fright and terror

  Wast thou of old,

  When sin and error

  Did show and shape thy looks to me,

  And through their glass discolour thee! 5

  He that did but look up, was proud and bold.

  The dishes of thy balance seemed to gape,

  Like two great pits;

  The beam and scape

  Did like some tort’ring engine show: 10

  Thy hand above did burn and glow,

  Daunting the stoutest hearts, the proudest wits.

  But now that Christ’s pure veil presents the sight,

  I see no fears:

  Thy hand is white, 15

  Thy scales like buckets, which attend

  And interchangeably descend,

  Lifting to heaven from this well of tears.

  For where before thou still didst call on me,

  Now I still touch 20

  And harp on thee.

  God’s promises have made thee mine;

  Why should I justice now decline?

  Against me there is none, but for me much.

  THE PILGRIMAGE.

  I travell’d on, seeing the hill, where lay

  My expectation.

  A long it was and weary way.

  The gloomy cave of Desperation

  I left on th’ one, and on the other side 5

  The rock of Pride.

  And so I came to Fancy’s meadow strow’d

  With many a flower:

  Fain would I here have made abode,

  But I was quicken’d by my hour. 10

  So to Care’s copse I came, and there got through

  With much ado.

  That led me to the wild of Passion, which

  Some call the wold;

  A wasted place, but sometimes rich. 15

  Here I was robb’d of all my gold,

  Save one good Angel, which a friend had ti’d

  Close to my side.

  At length I got unto the gladsome hill,

  Where lay my hope, 20

  Where lay my heart; and climbing still,

  When I had gain’d the brow and top,

  A lake of brackish waters on the ground

  Was all I found.

  With that abash’d and struck with many a sting 25

  Of swarming fears,

  I fell, and cried, Alas my King;

  Can both the way and end be tears?

  Yet taking heart I rose, and then perceiv’d

  I was deceiv’d: 30

  My hill was further: so I flung away,

  Yet heard a cry

  Just as I went, None goes that way

  And lives: If that be all, said I,

  After so foul a journey death is fair, 35

  And but a chair.

  THE HOLDFAST.

  I threat’ned to observe the strict decree

  Of my dear God with all my power and might.

  But I was told by one, it could not be;

  Yet I might trust in God to be my light.

  Then will I trust, said I, in him alone. 5

  Nay, ev’n to trust in him, was also his:

  We must confess, that nothing is our own.

  Then I confess that he my succour is:

  But to have nought is ours, not to confess

  That we have nought. I stood amazed at this, 10

  Much troubled, till I heard a friend express,

  That all things were more ours by being his.

  What Adam had, and forfeited for all,

  Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall.

  COMPLAINING.

  Do not beguile my heart,

  Because thou art

  My power and wisdom. Put me not to shame,

  Because I am

  Thy clay that weeps, thy dust that calls. 5

  Thou art the Lord of glory;

  The deed and story

  Are both thy due: but I a silly fly,

  That live or die

  According as the weather falls. 10

  Art thou all justice, Lord?

  Shows not thy word

  More attributes? Am I all throat or eye,

  To weep or cry?

  Have I no parts but those of grief? 15

  Let not thy wrathful power

  Afflict my hour,

  My inch of life: or let thy gracious power

  Contract my hour,

  That I may climb and find relief. 20

  THE DISCHARGE.

  Busy inquiring heart, what wouldst thou know?

  Why dost thou pry,

  And turn, and leer, and with a licorous eye

  Look high and low;

  And in thy lookings stretch and grow? 5

  Hast thou not made thy counts, and summ’d up all?

  Did not thy heart

  Give up the whole, and with the whole depart?

  Let what will fall:
/>   That which is past who can recall? 10

  Thy life is God’s, thy time to come is gone,

  And is his right.

  He is thy night at noon: he is at night

  Thy noon alone.

  The crop is his, for he hath sown. 15

  And well it was for thee, when this befell,

  That God did make

  Thy business his, and in thy life partake:

  For thou canst tell,

  If it be his once, all is well. 20

  Only the present is thy part and fee.

  And happy thou,

  If, though thou didst not beat thy future brow,

  Thou couldst well see

  What present things requir’d of thee. 25

  They ask enough; why shouldst thou further go?

  Raise not the mud

  Of future depths, but drink the clear and good.

  Dig not for woe

  In times to come; for it will grow. 30

  Man and the present fit: if he provide,

  He breaks the square.

  This hour is mine: if for the next I care,

  I grow too wide,

  And do encroach upon death’s side. 35

  For death each hour environs and surrounds.

  He that would know

  And care for future chances, cannot go

  Unto those grounds,

  But through a churchyard which them bounds. 40

  Things present shrink and die: but they that spend

  Their thoughts and sense

  On future grief, do not remove it thence,

  But it extend,

  And draw the bottom out an end. 45

  God chains the dog till night; wilt loose the chain,

  And wake thy sorrow?

  Wilt thou forestall it, and now grieve tomorrow

  And then again

  Grieve over freshly all thy pain? 50

  Either grief will not come: or if it must,

  Do not forecast.

  And while it cometh, it is almost past.

  Away distrust:

  My God hath promis’d, he is just. 55

  PRAISE II.

  King of Glory, King of Peace,

  I will love thee;

  And that love may never cease,

  I will move thee.

  Thou hast granted my request, 5

  Thou hast heard me:

  Thou didst note my working breast,

  Thou hast spar’d me.

  Wherefore with my utmost art

  I will sing thee, 10

  And the cream of all my heart

  I will bring thee.

  Though my sins against me cried,

  Thou didst clear me;

  And alone, when they replied, 15

  Thou didst hear me.

  Sev’n whole days, not one in seven,