Read more poems by George Herbert: George Herbert Poems at Poetry X.
Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more, Till he became Most poor: With thee O let me rise As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day thy victories: Then shall the fall further the flight in me. My tender age in sorrow did begin: And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sin, That I became Most thin. With thee Let me combine And feel this day thy victory: For, if I imp my wing on thine, Affliction shall advance the flight in me. Anonymous submission.
Added: 5 May 2003 | Last Read: 1 Mar 2021 5:42 PM | Viewed: 17134 times
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