To God: An Anthem Sung In The Chapel At Whitehall Before The King.

Verse. My God, I'm wounded by my sin,
    And sore without, and sick within.
Ver. Chor. I come to Thee, in hope to find
    Salve for my body and my mind.
Verse. In Gilead though no balm be found
    To ease this smart or cure this wound,
Ver. Chor. Yet, Lord, I know there is with Thee
    All saving health, and help for me.
Verse. Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine,
    That pours in oil, as well as wine,
Ver. Chor. And let it work, for I'll endure
    The utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

His Prayer For Absolution

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

A Mean In Our Means

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon Gut.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Wounded Heart

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

His Anthem To Christ On The Cross.

    When I behold Thee, almost slain,
    With one and all parts full of pain:
    When I Thy gentle heart do see
    Pierced through and dropping blood for me,
    I'll call, and cry out, thanks to Thee.

    Vers. But yet it wounds my soul to think
    That for my sin Thou, Thou must drink,
    Even Thou alone, the bitter cup
    Of fury and of vengeance up.

    Chor. Lord, I'll not see Thee to drink all
    The vinegar, the myrrh, the gall:

Vers. Chor. But I will sip a little wine;
        Which done, Lord, say: The rest is Mine.

Robert Herrick

An Ode, Or Psalm To God.

        Dear God,
If Thy smart rod
Here did not make me sorry,
I should not be
With Thine or Thee
In Thy eternal glory.

        But since
Thou didst convince
My sins by gently striking;
Add still to those
First stripes new blows,
According to Thy liking.

        Fear me,
Or scourging tear me;
That thus from vices driven,
I may from hell
Fly up to dwell
With Thee and Thine in heaven.

Robert Herrick

To God.

Make, make me Thine, my gracious God,
Or with Thy staff, or with Thy rod;
And be the blow, too, what it will,
Lord, I will kiss it, though it kill:
Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me,
Yet, in torments, I'll commend Thee;
Examine me with fire, and prove me
To the full, yet I will love Thee;
Nor shall Thou give so deep a wound
But I as patient will be found.

Robert Herrick

To God.

I'll come, I'll creep, though Thou dost threat,
Humbly unto Thy mercy-seat:
When I am there, this then I'll do,
Give Thee a dart, and dagger too;
Next, when I have my faults confessed,
Naked I'll show a sighing breast;
Which if that can't Thy pity woo,
Then let Thy justice do the rest
    And strike it through.

Robert Herrick

To Christ.

I crawl, I creep; my Christ, I come
To Thee for curing balsamum:
Thou hast, nay more, Thou art the tree
Affording salve of sovereignty.
My mouth I'll lay unto Thy wound
Bleeding, that no blood touch the ground:
For, rather than one drop shall fall
To waste, my JESU, I'll take all.

Robert Herrick

To God: On His Sickness.

What though my harp and viol be
Both hung upon the willow tree?
What though my bed be now my grave,
And for my house I darkness have?
What though my healthful days are fled,
And I lie number'd with the dead?
Yet I have hope, by Thy great power,
To spring; though now a wither'd flower.

Robert Herrick