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The Call

The Call

1.

COME, my heart ! come, my head,

In sighs, and tears !

'Tis now, since you have lain thus dead,

Some twenty years ;

Awake, awake,

Some pity take

Upon yourselves !

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by Henry Vaughan

Son-Days

Son-Days

. 1

Bright shadows of true Rest! some shoots of bliss,

Heaven once a week;

The next world's gladness prepossest in this;

A day to seek;

Eternity in time; the steps by which

We Climb above all ages; Lamps that light

Man through his heap of dark days; and the rich,

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by Henry Vaughan

The Star

. Whatever 'tis, whose beauty here below

Attracts thee thus and makes thee stream and flow,

And wind and curl, and wink and smile,

Shifting thy gate and guile;

Though thy close commerce nought at all imbars

My present search, for eagles eye not stars,

And still the lesser by the best

And highest good is blest;

3

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by Henry Vaughan

Retirement

Retirement

Fresh fields and woods! the Earth's fair face,

God's foot-stool, and man's dwelling-place.

I ask not why the first Believer

Did love to be a country liver?

Who to secure pious content

Did pitch by groves and wells his tent;

Where he might view the boundless sky,

And all those glorious lights on high;

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by Henry Vaughan

And Do They So?

And Do They So?

"

Etenim res creatoe exerto capite observantesexpectant revelationem Filiorum Dei.

":

"For created things, watching with head erect,

await the revelation of the Sons of God."

And do they so? Have they a sense

Of aught but influence?

Can they their heads lift, and expect,

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by Henry Vaughan

Regeneration

Regeneration

A ward, and still in bonds, one day

I stole abroad;

It was high spring, and all the way

Primrosed and hung with shade;

Yet was it frost within,

And surly winds

Blasted my infant buds, and sin

Like clouds eclipsed my mind.

3

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by Henry Vaughan

Mount Of Olives (I)

Mount Of Olives (I)

1.

SWEET, sacred hill ! on whose fair brow

My Saviour sate, shall I allow

Language to love,

And idolize some shade, or grove,

Neglecting thee ? such ill-plac'd wit,

Conceit, or call it what you please,

Is the brain's fit,

9

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by Henry Vaughan

The Morning-Watch

The Morning-Watch

. O joys! infinite sweetness! with what flow'rs

And shoots of glory my soul breaks and buds!

All the long hours

Of night, and rest,

Through the still shrouds

Of sleep, and clouds,

This dew fell on my breast;

Oh, how it bloods

4

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by Henry Vaughan

The True Christmas

The True Christmas

So stick up ivy and the bays,

And then restore the heathen ways.

Green will remind you of the spring,

Though this great day denies the thing.

And mortifies the earth and all

But your wild revels, and loose hall.

Could you wear flowers, and roses strow

Blushing upon your breasts' warm snow,

5

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by Henry Vaughan

Corruption

Corruption

Sure it was so. Man in those early days

Was not all stone and earth;

He shined a little, and by those weak rays

Had some glimpse of his birth.

He saw Heaven o'er his head, and knew from whence

He came, condemned hither;

And, as first love draws strongest, so from hence

His mind sure progressed thither.

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by Henry Vaughan

Quickness

Quickness

False life, a foil and no more, when

Wilt thou be gone?

Thou foul deception of all men

That would not have the true come on.

Thou art a moon-like toil, a blind

Self-posing state,

A dark contest of waves and wind,

A mere tempestuous debate.

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by Henry Vaughan

Etesia Absent

Etesia Absent

Love, the world's life! What a sad death

Thy absence is to lose our breath

At once and die, is but to live

Enlarged, without the scant reprieve

Of pulse and air: whose dull returns

And narrow circles the soul mourns.

But to be dead alive, and still

To wish, but never have our will:

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by Henry Vaughan