Without change, something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken. ~ Frank Herbert

George Herbert. Peace.

http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/herbert/peace.htm

PEACE.     

SWEET PEACE, where dost thou dwell ?  I humbly crave,
                        Let me once know.
        I sought thee in a secret cave,
                And ask’d, if Peace were there.
A hollow winde did seem to answer, No :
                        Go seek elsewhere.

I did ;  and going did a rainbow note :
                        Surely, thought I,
        This is the lace of Peaces coat :
                I will search out the matter.
But while I lookt, the clouds immediately
                        Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden, and did spy
                        A gallant flower,
        The crown Imperiall :  Sure, said I,
                Peace at the root must dwell.
But when I digg’d, I saw a worm devoure
                        What show’d so well.

At length I met a rev’rend good old man :
                        Whom when of Peace
        I did demand, he thus began ;
                There was a Prince of old
At Salem dwelt, who liv’d with good increase
                        Of flock and fold.

He sweetly liv’d ;  yet sweetnesse did not save
                        His life from foes.
        But after death out of his grave
                There sprang twelve stalks of wheat :
Which many wondring at, got some of those
                        To plant and set.

It prosper’d strangely, and did soon disperse
                        Through all the earth :
        For they that taste it do rehearse,
                That vertue lies therein ;
A secret vertue bringing peace and mirth
                        By flight of sinne.

Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
                        And grows for you ;
        Make bread of it :  and that repose
                And peace, which ev’ry where
With so much earnestnesse you do pursue
                        Is onely there.

George Herbert - Love bade me welcome

Love bade me welcome
Yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin.
But Quick-eyed love
observing me grow slack from my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me
sweetly questioning
if I lacked anything.

A guest, I answered, 'worthy to be here.'
Love said, 'Then you shall be he.'
I, the unkind, ungrateful, ah my dear
I cannot look on thee.'
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
'Who made the eyes but I?"

Truth, my Lord, but I have marred them.
Let my shame go where it doth deserve.
'And know you not', Love says , 'who bore the blame?'
'My dear, Then I will serve.'
You must sit down, says Love, 'and taste my meat.'
So I did sit and eat.