A Prayer For Friday

George Herbert

§ 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 lacked any thing.
 
A guest, I answered, 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 marred 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.

§ A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant rears,
 Made of a heart and cemented with tears:
  Whose parts are as thy hand did frame;
No workman's tool hath touch'd the same.
                   A HEART alone
                   Is such a stone,
                  As nothing but
                  Thy pow'r doth cut.
                  Wherefore each part
                  Of my hard heart
                  Meets in this frame,
                  To praise thy name:
       That if I chance to hold my peace,
 These stones to praise thee may not cease.
   Oh, let thy blessed SACRIFICE be mine,
     And sanctify this ALTAR to be thine.

§ Bitter-sweet'
AH my deare angrie Lord,
Since thou dost love, yet strike;
Cast down, yet help afford;
Sure I will do the like.

I will complain, yet praise;
I will bewail, approve:
And all my sowre-sweet dayes
I will lament, and love.