Vaughan, Henry - from Unprofitableness
Type of Spiritual Experience
A description of the experience
Henry Vaughan – from Unprofitableness
How rich, O Lord, how fresh thy visits are
'Twas but just now my bleak leaves hopeless hung
Sullied with dust and mud
Each snarling blast shot through me, and did share
Their youth and beauty, cold showers nipped and wrung
Their spiciness and blood.
But since thou didst in one sweet glance survey
Their sad decays, I flourish, and once more
Breathe all perfumes and spice
I smell a dew like myrrh, and all the day
Wear in my bosom a full sun; such store
Hath one beam from thy eyes
But ah, my God, what fruit hast thou of this?
What one poor leaf did ever I yet fall
To wait upon thy wreath?
Thus thou all day a thankless weed dost dress
And when th'hast done, a stench or fog is all
The odour I bequeath