Matins

I cannot ope mine eyes,/But Thou art ready there to catch/My morning-soul and sacrifice:/Then we must needs for that day make a match.

My God, what is a heart?/Silver, or gold, or precious stone,/Or star, or rainbow, or a part/Of all these things, or all of them in one?

My God, what is a heart,/That Thou shouldst it so eye, and woo,/Pouring upon it all Thy art,/As if that Thou hadst nothing else to do?

Indeed man’s whole estate/Amounts (and richly) to serve Thee:/He did not heav’n and earth create,/Yet studies them, not Him by whom they be.

Teach me Thy love to know;/That this new light, which now I see,/May both the work and Workman show:/Then by a sunbeam I will climb to Thee. – George Herbert (1593-1633)

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