Selected Works - George Herbert

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God and King,

      Vers. The heav’ns are not too high,

      His praise may thither flie:

      The earth is not too low,

      His praises there may grow.

      Cho. Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,

      My God and King.

      Vers. The church with psalms must shout,

      No doore can keep them out:

      But above all, the heart

      Must bear the longest part.

      Cho. Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,

      My God and King.

      24. LOVE.

      1.

      IMMORTAL LOVE, authour of this great frame,

      Sprung from that beautie which can never fade;

      How hath man parcel’d out thy glorious name,

      And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made,

      While mortall love doth all the title gain!

      Which siding with invention, they together

      Bear all the sway, possessing heart and brain,

      (Thy workmanship) and give thee share in neither.

      Wit fancies beautie, beautie raiseth wit:

      The world is theirs; they two play out the game,

      Thou standing by: and though thy glorious name

      Wrought our deliverance from the infernall pit,

      Who sings thy praise? onely a skarf or glove

      Doth warm our hands, and make them write of love.

      2.

      Immortal Heat, O let thy greater flame

      Attract the lesser to it: let those fires

      Which shall consume the world, first make it tame,

      And kindle in our hearts such true desires,

      As may consume our lusts, and make thee way.

      Then shall our hearts pant thee; then shall our

      All her invention on thine altar lay, [brain

      And there in hymnes send back thy fire again:

      Our eies shall see thee, which before saw dust;

      Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blinde:

      Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kinde,

      Who wert disseized by usurping lust:

      All knees shall bow to thee; all wits shall rise,

      And praise him who did make and mend our eies.

      25. THE TEMPER.

      HOW should I praise thee, Lord! how should my rymes

      Gladly engrave thy love in steel,

      If what my soul doth feel sometimes,

      My soul might ever feel!

      Although there were some fourtie heav’ns, or more,

      Sometimes I peere above them all;

      Sometimes I hardly reach a score,

      Sometimes to hell I fall.

      O rack me not to such a vast extent;

      Those distances belong to thee:

      The world’s too little for thy tent,

      A grave too big for me.

      Wilt thou meet arms with man, that thou dost stretch

      A crumme of dust from heav’n to hell?

      Will great God measure with a wretch?

      Shall he thy stature spell?

      O let me, when thy roof my soul hath hid,

      O let me roost and nestle there:

      Then of a sinner thou art rid

      And I of hope and fear.

      Yet take thy way; for sure thy way is best:

      Stretch or contract me thy poore debter:

      This is but tuning of my breast,

      To make the musick better.

      Whether I flie with angels, fall with dust,

      Thy hands made both, and I am there.

      Thy power and love, my love and trust,

      Make one place ev’ry where.

      26. THE TEMPER.

      IT cannot be. Where is that mightie joy,

      Which just now took up all my heart?

      Lord! if thou must needs use thy dart,

      Save that, and me; or sin for both destroy.

      The grosser world stands to thy word and art;

      But thy diviner world of grace

      Thou suddenly doth raise and race,

      And ev’ry day a new Creatour art.

      O fix thy chair of grace, that all my powers

      May also fix their reverence:

      For when thou dost depart from hence,

      They grow unruly, and sit in thy bowers.

      Scatter, or binde them all to bend to thee:

      Though elements change, and heaven move;

      Let not thy higher court remove,

      But keep a standing majestie in me.

      27. JORDAN.

      WHO sayes that fictions onely and false hair

      Become a verse? Is there in truth no beautie?

      Is all good structure in a winding stair?

      May no lines passe, except they do their dutie

      Not to a true, but painted chair?

      Is it not verse, except enchanted groves

      And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spunne lines?

      Must purling streams refresh a lover’s loves?

      Must all be vail’d, while he that reades, divines,

      Catching the sense at two removes?

      Shepherds are honest people; let them sing:

      Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime:

      I envie no man’s nightingale or spring;

      Nor let them punish me with losse of ryme,

      Who plainly say, My God, My King.

      28. EMPLOYMENT.

      IF as a flowre doth spread and die,

      Thou wouldst extend me to some good,

      Before I

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