Easter Wings
By George Herbert
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 thy victorie:
For,
if I imp my wing on thine,
Affliction shall advance
the flight in me.
Risen Christ, for whom no door is locked, no
entrance barred: open the doors of our hearts, that we may seek the good of
others and walk the joyful road of sacrifice and peace, to the praise of God
the Father. Amen.