The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/The Temper (II)

by George Herbert

For works with similar titles, see The Temper.

¶ The Temper.

IT cannot be. Where is that mightie 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 Creatour 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 binde them all to bend to thee:
  Though elements change, and heaven move,
  Let not thy higher Court remove,
But keep a standing Majestie in me.

---