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A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER

(First published 1631)

Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done;

For I have more.

Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sins their door?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallow'd in, a score?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done;
For I have more.

5

10

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by Thyself, that at my death Thy Son 15
Shall shine, as He shines now and heretofore:
And having done that, Thou hast done;

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Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridall of the earth and skie:
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou must die.

5 Sweet rose, whose hue angrie and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
10 A box where sweets compacted lie,
My musick shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Only a sweet and vertuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives;
15 But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.

5

10

15

THE PULLEY

(From the same)

When God at first made man,
Having a glasse of blessings standing by,
Let us,' said He, 'poure on him all we can;
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.'

So strength first made a way;

Then beautie flow'd, then wisdome, honour,
pleasure;

When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all His treasure,
Rest in the bottome lay.

"For if I should,' said He,

'Bestow this jewell also on My creature,
He would adore My gifts in stead of Me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:
So both should losers be.

20

Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessnesse:
Let him be rich and wearie, that at least,
If goodnesse leade him not, yet wearinesse
May tosse him to my breast.'

THE ELIXIR

(From the same)

Teach me, my God and King,
In all things Thee to see,

And what I do in anything

To do it as for Thee:

5

Not rudely, as a beast,

10

To runne into an action;

But still to make Thee prepossest,

And give it his perfection.

A man that looks on glasse,
On it may stay his eye;

Or if he pleaseth, through it passe,
And then the heav'n espie.

All may of Thee partake:
Nothing can be so mean,

15 Which with his tincture for Thy sake,' Will not grow bright and clean.

20

A servant with this clause
Makes drudgerie divine;

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,
Makes that and th' action fine.

This is the famous stone

That turneth all to gold;

For that which God doth touch and own
Cannot for lesse be told.

THE COLLAR

(From the same)

I struck the board, and cry'd, 'No more;
I will abroad.'

What, shall I ever sigh and pine?

My lines and life are free; free as the road,
Loose as the winde, as large as store.

Shall I be still in suit?

Have I no harvest but a thorn

To let me bloud and not restore

What I have lost with cordiall fruit?

Sure there was wine,

5

10

Before my sighs did drie it; there was corn

Before my tears did drown it;

Is the yeare onely lost to me?

Have I no bayes to crown it,

No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted,

15

All wasted?

Not so, my heart; but there is fruit,
And thou hast hands.

Recover all thy sigh-blown age

On double pleasures; leave thy cold dispute
Of what is fit and not; forsake thy cage,

Thy rope of sands

Which pettie thoughts have made; and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw,

And be thy law,

While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.

Away! take heed;

I will abroad.

Call in thy death's-head there, tie up thy fears;

He that forbears

To suit and serve his need

Deserves his load.

20

25

30

But as I raved and grew more fierce and wilde At every word,

35 Methought I heard one calling, 'Childe'; And I reply'd, 'My Lord.'

Henry Vaughan

1621-1695

THE RETREATE

(From Silex Scintillans, Part I., 1650)

Happy those early dayes, when I
Shin'd in my Angell-infancy!
Before I understood this place
Appointed for my second race,
5 Or taught my soul to fancy ought
But a white, celestiall thought;
When yet I had not walkt above
A mile or two from my first Love,
And looking back, at that short space,
10 Could see a glimpse of his bright face;
When on some gilded Cloud or Flowre
My gazing soul would dwell an houre,
And in those weaker glories spy
Some shadows of eternity;

15 Before I taught my tongue to wound
My conscience with a sinfull sound,
Or had the black art to dispence

A sev'rall sinne to ev'ry sense, But felt through all this fleshly dresse 20 Bright shootes of everlastingnesse. O how I long to travell back, And tread again that ancient track! That I might once more reach that plaine, Where first I left my glorious traine;

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