| Discipline |  |
| By George Herbet | |||
| Thursday, 03 March 2011 | |||
| THROW away thy rod, Throw away thy wrath : O my God, Take the gentle path. For my hearts desire Unto thine is bent : I aspire To a full consent. Nor a word or look I affect to own, But by book, And thy book alone. Though I fail, I weep : Though I halt in pace, Yet I creep To the throne of grace. Then let wrath remove ; Love will do the deed : For with love Stonie hearts will bleed. Love is swift of foot ; Love’s a man of warre, And can shoot, And can hit from farre. Who can scape his bow ? That which wrought on thee, Brought thee low, Needs must work on me. Throw away thy rod ; Though man frailties hath, Thou art God : Throw away thy wrath.
|