Page:The Temple (2nd ed) - George Herbert (1633).djvu/140

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
126
The Church.
Inclose me still for fear I start.
Be to me rather sharp and tart,
Then let me want thy hand & art.

When thou dost greater judgments spare,
And with thy knife but prune and pare,
Ev'n fruitfull trees more fruitful are.

Such sharpnes shows the sweetest frend:
Such cuttings rather heal then rend:
And such beginnings touch their end.


¶ The Method.

POore heart, lament.
For since thy God refuseth still,
There is some rub, some discontent,
Which cools his will.

Thy Father could
Quickly effect, what thou dost move;
For he is Power: and sure he would;
For he is Love.

Go search this thing,
Tumble thy breast, and turn thy book.
If thou hadst lost a glove or ring,
Wouldst thou not look?

What do I see
Written above there? Yesterday
I did behave me carelesly,
When I did pray.

And