Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Words of Comfort

With exhaustion seeping into my bones, and tiredness round my eyes, I seek comfort in rest. Often guilty with feelings of self-inadequacy, the words below is an exposition of a welcoming arms of grace to a tired, weary and sinful self.

Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lack'd anything.

A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?

Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them:
let my shame Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.

—George Herbert, 1593-1633

1 comment:

Joy Morris said...

Thank you for that poem. I love Herbert-- I'd name my imaginary kid that. Maybe George Herbert, but that reminds me of a head of state.

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