17. Oktober 2021
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 / Oh let me rise / As larks, harmoniously, / And sing this day thy victories: / Then shall the fall farther the flight in me. / My tender age in sorrow did begin: / And still with sickness and shame / Thou did’st so punish sin, / That I became / Most thin / With thee / Let me combine, / And feel this day the victory, / For, if I imp my wing on thine, / Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
01.01.1970
George Herbert, The Temple 1633