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| 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.
