George Herbert (April 3, 1593 March 1, 1633) was an English poet and orator. Despite living for only 40 years, his stock as a poet has risen and risen. The poems of his final years, written while as a clergyman at Bemerton near ...
By all means use sometimes to be alone. Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth wear. Dare to look in thy chest; for 'Tis thine own: And tumble up and down what thou findst there. Who cannot rest till he good fellows find, he breaks up house, turns out of doors his mind.
Lord, with what care hast Thou begirt us round! Parents first season us; then schoolmasters deliver us to laws; they send us bound to rules of reason, holy messengers, pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, fine nets and stratagems to catch us in, bibles laid open, millions of surprises, blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness, the sound of glory ringing in our ears: without, our shame; within, our consciences; angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears. Yet all these fences and their whole array one cunning bosom-sin blows quite away.
The time of every ones first receiving is not so much by yeers, as by understanding: particularly, the rule may be this: When any one can distinguish the Sacramentall from common bread, knowing the Institution, and the difference, hee ought to receive of what age soever. Children and youths are usually deferred too long, under pretence of devotion to the Sacrament, but it is for want of Instruction; their understandings being ripe enough for ill things, and why not then for better? But Parents and Masters should make hast in this, as to a great purchase for their children, and servants, which while they deferr, both sides suffer; the one, in wanting many excitings of grace; the other, in being worse served and obeyed.
Rise, heart; Thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise Without delays, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
With him mayst rise; That, as His death calcined thee to dust, His life make thee gold, and, much more, just.
The shepherds sing; and shall I silent be? My God, no hymne for thee? My soul's a shepherd too; a flock it feeds
Of thoughts, and words, and deeds.
The pasture is thy word; the streams, thy grace Enriching all the place.
O day most calm, most bright, The fruit of this, the next worlds bud,
Th'indorsement of supreme delight,
Writ by a friend, and with his bloud;
The couch of time; cares balm and bay:
The week were dark, but for thy light.
The Country Parson, as soon as he awakes on Sunday morning, presently falls to work, and seems to himselfe so as a Market-man is, when the Market day comes, or a shopkeeper, when customers use to come in. His thoughts are full of making the best of the day, and contriving it to his best gaines.
The Physicians told me that yet there was one help for me, if I could constantly pursue it, to wit, A sober and orderly life : for this had every way great force for the recovering and preserving of Health, as a disorderly life to the overthrowing of it; as I too wel by experience found. For Temperance preserves even old men and sickly men sound: But Intemperance destroyes most healthy and flourishing constitutions.