Not rudely, as a beast,

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,

Which with his tincture (for Thy sake) Will not grow bright and clean.

A servant with this clause

Makes drudgerie divine:

Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws,
Makes that and the 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.

GEORGE HERBERT.

VIRTUE

SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky:
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue angry 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, A box where sweets compacted lie: My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.

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

GEORGE HERBERT.

THE PULLEY

"

The beauty of this great poem reaches a height in the magnificent last stanza. It is a pity that there should be two meanings to the word rest"; but the reader will easily see where "rest" means and where it means the "remainder."

WHEN God at first made Man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, Let us (said He) pour on him all we can; Let the world's riches, which dispersèd lie, Contract into a span.

So strength first made a way,

peace"

Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure:
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all His treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.

For if I should (said He)

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

Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness;
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to My breast.

GEORGE HERBERT.

THE SEARCH FOR PEACE

SWEET Peace, where dost thou dwell? I

humbly crave,

Let me once know.

I sought thee in a secret cave,

And ask'd, if Peace were there? A hollow wind did seem to answer, "No: "Go seek elsewhere."

I did; and going did a rainbow note:
Surely, thought I,

This is the lace of Peace's coat:

I will search out the matter.
But while I looked, the clouds immediately
Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden, and did spy
A gallant flower

The Crown Imperial: Sure, said I,

Peace at the root must dwell.

But when I digg'd, I saw a worm devour
What show'd so well.

At length I met a reverend good old man:
Whom when for Peace

I did demand, he thus began:

"There was a Prince of old

At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase
Of flock and fold.

His life from foes.

But after death, out of his grave

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat: Which many wondering at, got some of those To plant and set.

"It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse
Through all the earth:

For they that taste it do rehearse,
That virtue lies therein;

A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth
By flight of sin.

"Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, And grows for you;

Make bread of it: and that repose

And peace, which everywhere

With so much earnestness you do pursue,
Is only there."

GEORGE HERBERT.

MAN'S MEDLEY

We have seen birds lift up their little beaks after

every good beakful of water.

takes the spiritual lesson!

How prettily Herbert

HARK, how the birds do sing

And woods do ring!

All creatures have their joy, and man has his. Yet if we rightly measure,

Man's joy and pleasure

Rather hereafter than at present is.

Not that he may not here
Taste of the cheer;