Entry tags:
Worth
Love (III)
Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guiltie of dust and sinne.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lack'd anything.
A guest, I answer'd, worth to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I, the unkinde, ungrateful? Ah my deare,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I.
Truth Lord, but I have marr'd them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, sayes Love, who bore the blame?
My deare then I will serve.
You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
- George Herbert
This poem was the focus of discussion in Poetry today, and it occurred to me that the sin of the speaker - that of Pride (I know better than you, Lord, why I am unworthy of your grace) - is one of mine as well. I don't know how to fix it, though. How do you stop feeling unworthy, and righteous in your unworthiness?
