Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poor:
With thee
O let me rise
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did begin:
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sin,
That I became
Most thin.
With thee
Let me combine
And feel this day thy victory:
For, if I imp my wing on thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
(George Herbert)
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Based on Topics: Sadness Poems, Success Poems, Money & Wealth Poems, Sin PoemsBased on Keywords: affliction, punish, larks, imp, decaying, foolishly, harmoniously, sicknesses, createdst