Friday, April 6, 2012



Rise, heart, thy lord is risen. Sing his praise 

Without delays, 

Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise 

With him may'st rise: 

That, as his death calcinèd thee to dust, 

His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just.

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part 

With all thy art, 

The cross taught all wood to resound his name

Who bore the same. 

His stretchèd sinews taught all strings what key
Is best to celebrate this most high day.

Consort, both heart and lute, and twist a song 

Pleasant and long; 

Or, since all music is but three parts vied 

And multiplied 

Oh let thy blessèd Spirit bear a part,

And make up our defects with his sweet art.

George Herbert