TO GOD: AN ANTHEM SUNG IN THE CHAPEL AT
WHITEHALL
BEFORE THE KING.
Robert Herrick
SILENCE.
Suffer thy legs, but not thy tongue to walk:
God, the Most Wise, is sparing of His talk.
13. MIRTH.
True mirth resides not in the smiling skin:
The sweetest solace is to act no sin.
14. LOADING AND UNLOADING.
God loads and unloads, thus His work begins,
To load with blessings and unload from sins.
15. GOD'S MERCY.
God's boundless mercy is, to sinful man,
Like to the ever-wealthy ocean:
Which though it sends forth thousand streams, 'tis ne'er
Known, or else seen, to be the emptier;
And though it takes all in, 'tis yet no more
Full, and fill'd full, than when full fill'd before.
16. PRAYERS MUST HAVE POISE.
God, He rejects all prayers that are slight
And want their poise: words ought to have their weight.
17.
TO GOD: AN ANTHEM SUNG IN THE CHAPEL AT WHITEHALL BEFORE THE KING.
_Verse. _ My God, I'm wounded by my sin,
And sore without, and sick within.
_Ver. Chor. _ I come to Thee, in hope to find
Salve for my body and my mind.
_Verse. _ In Gilead though no balm be found
To ease this smart or cure this wound,
_Ver. Chor. _ Yet, Lord, I know there is with Thee
All saving health, and help for me.
_Verse. _ Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine,
That pours in oil, as well as wine,
_Ver. Chor. _ And let it work, for I'll endure
The utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure.
18. UPON GOD.
Suffer thy legs, but not thy tongue to walk:
God, the Most Wise, is sparing of His talk.
13. MIRTH.
True mirth resides not in the smiling skin:
The sweetest solace is to act no sin.
14. LOADING AND UNLOADING.
God loads and unloads, thus His work begins,
To load with blessings and unload from sins.
15. GOD'S MERCY.
God's boundless mercy is, to sinful man,
Like to the ever-wealthy ocean:
Which though it sends forth thousand streams, 'tis ne'er
Known, or else seen, to be the emptier;
And though it takes all in, 'tis yet no more
Full, and fill'd full, than when full fill'd before.
16. PRAYERS MUST HAVE POISE.
God, He rejects all prayers that are slight
And want their poise: words ought to have their weight.
17.
TO GOD: AN ANTHEM SUNG IN THE CHAPEL AT WHITEHALL BEFORE THE KING.
_Verse. _ My God, I'm wounded by my sin,
And sore without, and sick within.
_Ver. Chor. _ I come to Thee, in hope to find
Salve for my body and my mind.
_Verse. _ In Gilead though no balm be found
To ease this smart or cure this wound,
_Ver. Chor. _ Yet, Lord, I know there is with Thee
All saving health, and help for me.
_Verse. _ Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine,
That pours in oil, as well as wine,
_Ver. Chor. _ And let it work, for I'll endure
The utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure.
18. UPON GOD.
