Poems by Themes Х
Random Poem Х
The Rating of Poets Х The Rating of Poems
Poem by George Herbert
Almightie Judge, how shall poore wretches brook Thy dreadfull look, Able a heart of iron to appall, When thou shalt call For ev'ry man's peculiar book? What others mean to do, I know not well; Yet I heare tell, That some will turn thee to some leaves therein So void of sinne, That they in merit shall excell. But I resolve, when thou shalt call for mine, That to decline, And thrust a Testament into thy hand: Let that be scann'd. There thou shalt finde my faults are thine.
George Herbert's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail email@example.com