O My chief good,
\nHow shall I measure out thy bloud?
\nHow shall I count what thee befell,
\nAnd each grief tell?<\/p>\n
Shall I thy woes
\nNumber according to thy foes?
\nOr, since one starre show\u2019d thy first breath,
\nShall all thy death?<\/p>\n
Or shall each leaf,
\nWhich falls in Autumn, score a grief?
\nOr can not leaves, but fruit, be signe
\nOf the true vine?<\/p>\n
Then let each houre
\nOf my whole life one grief devoure;
\nThat thy distresse through all may runne,
\nAnd be my sunne.<\/p>\n
Or rather let
\nMy severall sinnes their sorrows get;
\nThat as each beast his cure doth know,
\nEach sinne may so.<\/p>\n
Since bloud is fittest, Lord, to write
\nThy sorrows in, and bloudie fight;
\nMy heart hath store, write there, where in
\nOne box doth lie both ink and sinne:<\/p>\n
That when sinne spies so many foes,
\nThy whips, thy nails, thy wounds, thy woes,
\nAll come to lodge there, sinne may say,
\nNo room for me, and flie away.<\/p>\n
Sinne being gone, oh fill the place,
\nAnd keep possession with thy grace;
\nLest sinne take courage and return,
\nAnd all the writings blot or burn.<\/p>\n
–George Herbert (1593-1633) <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
O My chief good, How shall I measure out thy bloud? How shall I count what thee befell, And each grief tell? Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes? Or, since one starre show\u2019d thy first breath, Shall…<\/span><\/p>\n