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by George Herbert 
ALL after pleasures as I rid one day, 
   My horse and I, both tir'd, bodie and minde, 
   With full crie of affections, quite astray, 
I took up in the next inne I could finde. 
There when I came, whom found I but my deare, 
   My dearest Lord, expecting till the grief 
   Of pleasures brought me to him, readie there 
To be all passengers most sweet relief? 
O Thou, whose glorious, yet contracted light, 
   Wrapt in nights mantle, stole into a manger; 
   Since my dark soul and brutish is thy right, 
To Man of all beasts be not thou a stranger: 
   Furnish & deck my soul, that thou mayst have 
   A better lodging then a rack or grave. 

THE shepherds sing; and shall I silent be? 
                         My God, no hymne for thee? 
My soul's a shepherd too; a flock it feeds 
                         Of thoughts, and words, and deeds. 
The pasture is thy word: the streams, thy grace 
                         Enriching all the place. 
Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers 
                         Out-sing the day-light houres. 
Then we will chide the sunne for letting night 
                          Take up his place and right: 
We sing one common Lord; wherefore he should 
                          Himself the candle hold. 
I will go searching, till I finde a sunne 
                          Shall stay, till we have done; 
A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly, 
                         As frost-nipt sunnes look sadly. 
Then we will sing, and shine all our own day, 
                          And one another pay: 
His beams shall cheer my breast, and both so twine, 
Till ev'n his beams sing, and my musick shine.