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Welsh-born English poet, orator and Anglican priest (1593–1633) From Wikiquote, the free quote compendium
George Herbert (April 3, 1593 – March 1, 1633) was an English poet and orator.
A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant rears,
Made of a heart, and cemented with tears;
Whose parts are as thy hand did frame;
No workman's tool hath touch'd the same.
That if I chance to hold my peace,
These stones to praise thee may not cease.
O let thy blessed SACRIFICE be mine,
And sanctify this ALTAR to be thine.
Yet Lord restore thine image, hear my call:
I got me flowers to strew Thy way,
I got me boughs off many a tree:
But Thou wast up by break of day,
And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee.
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poor:
With thee
O let me rise
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day thy victories:
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sin,
That I became
Most thin.
With thee
Let me combine,
And feel this day thy victory:
For, If I imp my wing on thine,
Prayer the Church's banquet, Angh' Almighty, sinner's tower,
A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear;
Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss,
The milky way, the bird of Paradise,
Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing,
Whether I fly with angels, fall with dust,
says that fictions only and false hair
Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty?
Is all good structure in a winding stair?
Man is no star, but a quick coal
Who blows it not, nor doth control
Lets his own ashes choke his soul.
My soul's a shepherd too; a flock it feeds
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky;
The dew shall weep thy fall tonight,
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
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.
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.
Who goes to bed and does not pray,
Maketh two nights to every day.
Nothing wears clothes, but Man; nothing doth need
But he to wear them.
Most things move th' under-jaw; the Crocodile not.
Most things sleep lying; th' Elephant leans or stands.
I gave to Hope a watch of mine; but he
Surely if each saw another's heart,
No sale or bargain pass: all would disperse,
My power and wisdom. Put me not to shame,
With doubling knees and weary bones,
To thee my sighs, my tears ascend:
My heart is wither'd like a ground
And make me giddy; Lord, I fall,
And fall to nothing: thou dost reign,
In bitter grief: yet I am styl'd
My lines and life are free; free as the road,
What I have lost with cordial fruit?
Before my sighs did dry it: there was corn
Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee
Call in thy death's head there: tie up thy fears.
But as I rav'd and grew more fierce and wild
Methought I heard one calling, Child!
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
Could have recovered greenness?
After so many deaths I live and write;
And relish versing: O my only light,
Throw away thy rod,
Throw away thy wrath:
Take the gentle path.
Then let wrath remove;
Love will do the deed:
Stony hearts will bleed.
Throw away thy rod;
Though man frailties hath,
Throw away thy wrath.
O who will show me those delights on high?
Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
Religion stands on tip-toe in our land,
Ready to pass to the American strand.
Full title: Jacula Prudentum; or Outlandish Proverbs, Sentences, &c. Selected by Mr. George Herbert
All quotes in this section were taken from The Complete Works in verse and prose of George Herbert: Volume III, Prose (1874), edited by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart, printed for private circulation. The book was published posthumously, and probably expanded by Herbert's brother Henry Herbert and others from George Herbert's manuscript compilation.
With regard to the numbering scheme, an introductory note statesː "In the first edition the Proverbs are numbered 1 to 1032, and commence with 'Man proposeth,' &c. and end with 'He that wipes,' &c. ; but the numbering inadvertently passes from 173 to 178, and so onward to 778, when the numbering is continued 780, and so again 831 is succeeded by 833, and 947 by 949. Thus 7 from 1032 leaves 1025, agreeably to our numbering, in the first edition. Our text follows the original edition throughout ; but the additions of 1650 are placed within brackets unnumbered. [...] Original orthography and wording are for the first time restored."
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