Читать книгу Selected Works - George Herbert - Страница 32

IT cannot be. Where is that mightie joy,

Which just now took up all my heart?

Lord! if thou must needs use thy dart,

Save that, and me; or sin for both destroy.

The grosser world stands to thy word and art;

But thy diviner world of grace

Thou suddenly doth raise and race,

And ev’ry day a new Creatour art.

O fix thy chair of grace, that all my powers

May also fix their reverence:

For when thou dost depart from hence,

They grow unruly, and sit in thy bowers.

Scatter, or binde them all to bend to thee:

Though elements change, and heaven move;

Let not thy higher court remove,

But keep a standing majestie in me.