The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/The Church-floore

by George Herbert

¶ The Church-floore.

MArk you the floore? that square & speckled stone,Which looks so firm and strong,Is Patience:

And th'other black and grave, wherewith each oneIs checker'd all along,Humilitie:

The gentle rising, which on either handLeads to the Quire above,Is Confidence:

But the sweet cement, which in one sure bandTies the whole frame, is LoveAnd Charitie.

Hither sometimes Sinne steals, and stainsThe marbles neat and curious veins:But all is cleansed when the marble weeps.Sometimes Death, puffing at the doore,Blows all the dust about the floore:But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps.Blest be the Architect, whose artCould build so strong in a weak heart.