George Herbert (1593–1633)

WHEN first Thou didst entice to Thee my heart,

I thought the service brave;

So many joys I writ down for my part!

Besides what I might have

Out of my stock of natural delights,

Augmented with Thy gracious benefits.

I lookèd on Thy furniture so fine,

And made it fine to me.

Thy glorious household stuff did me intwine,

And ’tice me unto Thee.

Such stars I counted mine: both heaven and earth

Paid me my wages in a world of mirth.

What pleasure could I want, whose King I served?

Where joys my fellows were?

Thus argued into hopes, my thoughts reserved

No place for grief or fear:

Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place,

And made her youth and fierceness seek Thy face.

At first Thou gav’st me milk and sweetnesses;

I had my wish and way:

My days were strewed with flowers and happiness:

There was no month but May:

But with my years sorrow did twist and grow,

And made a party unawares for woe.

Whereas my birth and spirit rather took

The way that takes the town;

Thou didst betray me to a lingering book,

And wrap me in a gown.

I was entangled in a world of strife,

Before I had the power to change my life.

Yet lest perchance I should too happy be

In my unhappiness,

Turning my purge to food, Thou throwest me

Into more sicknesses.

Thus does Thy power cross-bias me, not making

Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking.

Now I am here; what Thou wilt do with me,

None of my books will show:

I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree;

For sure then I should grow

To fruit, or shade; at least some bird would trust

Her household to me, and I should be just.

Yet though Thou troublest me, I must be meek;

In weakness must be stout.

Well, I will change the service, and go seek

Some other master out.

Ah, my dear God! though I am clean forgot,

Let me not love Thee, if I love Thee not.

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