To His Ever-Loving God

Unknown

To His Ever-Loving God

Can I not come to Thee, my God, for these

So very-many-meeting hindrances,

That slack my pace; but yet not make me stay?

Who slowly goes, rids (in the end) his way.

Cleere Thou my paths, or shorten Thou my miles,

Remove the barrs, or lift me o'er the stiles:

Since rough the way is, help me when I call,

And take me up; or els prevent the fall.

I kenn my home; and it affords some ease,

To see far off the smoaking Villages.

Fain would I rest; yet covet not to die,

For fear of future-biting penurie:

No, no (my God) Thou know'st my wishes be

To leave this life, not loving it, but Thee.

Robert Herrick

“I kenn my home; and it affords some ease, to see far off the smoaking Villages.” 
 

Such a satisfying poem – that image of a road full of frustrating obstacles, and the smoking chimney of home drawing us on in spite of our tiredness – the expressive choice of words, “so-very-many-meeting hindrances”, “future-biting penury” - the rhythmic back-and-forth of his pleas, do this or this, help me this way or else another - the sure-fit of the rhyme balanced against the uncertainty within his journey – all of this moves me, nevermind the last line, the line that stops the swish-swash of thoughts, yanks me from the earthosphere and back into the eternal. I know my home. My home is God, not the house but the Him-everywhere-and within.