Easter Wings Poem by George Herbert
Easter Wings
Lord, Who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
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 beginne;
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.
With Thee
Let me combine,
And feel this day Thy victorie;
For, if I imp my wing on Thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
With Thee O let me rise, As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day Thy victories: Then shall the fall further the flight in me......nice inscription. A beautiful poem is nicely executed. Five stars.
Magisterial it is, to think, 'tis not starvation makes you thin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/2/2024 5:29:03 PM # 1.0.0
Mindfully written with spiritual insight..