A love poem
No, this is not a romantic love poem. It’s God stuff. What else could one post on Palm Sunday afternoon?
LOve bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guiltie of dust and sinne.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lack’d any thing.
A guest, I answer’d, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkinde, ungratefull? Ah my deare,
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, sayes Love, who bore the blame?
My deare, then I will serve.
You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
George Herbert, The Temple (1633)
I was reminded of this by a commenter on Facebook, who said — speaking of the current competition between Julian of Norwich and George Herbert — that anyone thinking of voting for Julian should read Love (III). Couldn’t agree more. You’ve read it now.
So go vote for George!