by George Herbert

It cannot be. Where is that mighty joy,
     Which just now took up all my heart?
     Lord, if thou must needs use thy dart,
Save that, and me; or sin for both destroy.

The grosser world stands to thy word and art;
     But thy diviner world of grace
     Thou suddenly dost raise and race,
And ev'ry day a new Creator art.

O fix thy chair of grace, that all my powers
     May also fix their reverence:
     For when thou dost depart from hence,
They grow unruly, and sit in thy bowers.

Scatter, or bind them all to bend to thee:
     Though elements change, and heaven move,
     Let not thy higher Court remove,
But keep a standing Majesty in me.

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