Henry Vaughan

Midnight

WHEN to my Eyes
Whilst deep sleep others catches,
Thine host of spies,
The stars, shine in their watches,
I do survey
Each busy ray,
And how they work, and wind;
And wish each beam
My soul doth stream
With the like ardour shin'd;
What emanations,
Quick vibrations,
And bright stirs are there!
What thin ejections,
Cold affections,
And slow motions here!

Thy heav'ns, some say,
Are a fiery-liquid light,
Which mingling aye
Streams, and flames thus to the sight.
Come then, my God!
Shine on this blood
And water, in one beam;
And Thou shalt see
Kindled by Thee
Both liquors burn, and stream.
O what bright quickness,
Active brightness,
And celestial flows,
Will follow after
On that water,
Which Thy Spirit blows!