GEORGE HERBERT

For my heart's desire Unto Thine is bent:

I aspire To a full consent.

Not a word or look I affect to own,

But by book, And Thy Book alone.

Though I fail, I weep ; Though I halt in pace,

Yet I creep To the throne of grace.

Then let wrath remove; Love will do the deed :

For with love Stony hearts will bleed.

Love is swift of foot ; Love's a man of war, And can shoot, And can hit from far.

Who can 'scape his bow ? That which wrought on Thee,

Brought Thee low, Needs must work on me.

Throw away Thy rod ; Though man frailties hath,

Thou art God: Throw away Thy wrath !

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