Love And Discipline

Since in a land not barren still

(Because Thou dost Thy grace distill)

My lot is fallen, blest be Thy will!

And since these biting frosts but kill

Some tares in me which choke or spill

That seed Thou sow'st, blest be Thy skill!

Blest be Thy dew, and blest Thy frost,

And happy I to be so crossed,

And cured by crosses at Thy cost.

The dew doth cheer what is distressed,

The frosts ill weeds nip and molest;

In both Thou work'st unto the best.

Thus while Thy several mercies plot,

And work on me now cold, now hot,

The work goes on and slacketh not;

For as Thy hand the weather steers,

So thrive I best, 'twixt joys and tears,

And all the year have some green ears.

Henry Vaughan

Henry Vaughan, (born April 17, 1622, Llansantffraed, Breconshire, Wales—died April 23, 1695, Llansantffraed), Anglo-Welsh poet and mystic remarkable for the range and intensity of his spiritual intuitions. Educated at Oxford and studying law in London, Vaughan was recalled home in 1642 when the first Civil War broke out, and he remained there the rest of his life.

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