I.
When first thou did’st, even from the grave
And womb of darkness, beckon out
My brutish soul, and to thy slave
Becam’st thyself both guide and scout ;
Even from that hour
Thou got’st my heart ; and though here tost
By winds, and bit with frost,
I pine and shrink,
Breaking the link
‘Twixt thee and me ; and ofttimes creep
Into the old silence and dead sleep,
Quitting thy way
All the long day ;
Yet sure, my God ! I love thee most.
Alas, thy love !
II.
I threaten heaven, and from my cell
Of clay and frailty break and bud,
Touch’d by thy fire and breath ; thy bloud,
Too, is my dew, and springing well.
But while I grow,
And stretch to thee, ayming at all
Thy stars and spangled hall,
Each fly doth taste,
Poyson, and blast
My yielding leaves ; sometimes a showr
Beats them quite off; and, in an hour,
Not one poor shoot,
But the bare root,
Hid under ground, survives the fall.
Alas, frail weed!
III.
Thus like some sleeping exhalation.
Which, wak’d by heat and beams, makes up
Unto that comforter, the sun.
And soars and shines, but, ere we sup,
And walk two steps,
Cool’d by the damps of night, descends.
And, whence it sprung, there ends.
Doth my weak fire
Pine and retire ;
And, after all my hight of flames,
In sickly expirations tames.
Leaving me dead
On my first bed.
Until thy sun again ascends.
Poor, falling star !
IV.
0, yes ! but give wings to my fire ;
And hatch my soul, until it fly
Up where thou art, amongst thy tire
Of stars, above infirmity ;
Let not perverse
And foolish thoughts adde to my bill
Of forward sins, and kill
That seed which thou
In me didst sow ;
But dresse, and water with thy grace,
Together with the seed, the place ;
And, for His sake
Who died to stake
His life for mine, tune to thy will
My heart, my verse.
Hosea vi. 4.
Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah, how shall I intreat thee? for thy goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it goeth away.
—Henry Vaughan
Unknowing 