Henry Vaughan Quotes

Still young and fine! but what is still in view We slight as old and soil'd, though fresh and new.

When first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave
To do the like; our bodies but forerun
The spirit's duty. True hearts spread and heave
Unto their God, as flow'rs do to the sun.
Give him thy first thoughts then; so shalt thou keep
Him company all day, and in him sleep.

I played with fire, did counsel spurn, Made life my common stake; But never thought that fire would burn, O that a soul could ache.

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep. So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted dreams, And into glory peep.

A ward, and still in bonds, one day
I stole abroad;
It was high spring, and all the way
Primrosed and hung with shade;
Yet was it frost within,
And surly winds
Blasted my infant buds, and sin
Like clouds eclipsed my mind.

Man is the shuttle, to whose winding quest And passage through these looms God ordered motion, but ordained no rest.

Early, as well as late,
Rise with the sun, and set in the same bowers

Caesar had perished from the world of men, had not his sword been rescued by his pen.

As men are killed by fighting, the truth is lost in disputing.

And here in the dust and dirt, O here, the lilies of His love appear.

Sure thou did'st nourish once! and many springs, Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, Passed o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings, Which now are dead, lodg'd in thy living bowers. And still a new succession sings and flies; Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot Towards the old and still-enduring skies; While the low violet thrives at their root.

As great a store
Have we of books as bees of herbs or more.

Mornings are mysteries; the first world's youth,
Man's resurrection, and the future's bud
Shroud in their births.

Holy writing must strive (by all means) for perfection and true holiness, that a door may be opened to him in heaven.

Bright pledge of peace and sunshine! the sure tie Of thy Lord's hand, the object of His eye! When I behold thee, though my light be dim, Distinct, and low, I can in thine see Him Who looks upon thee from His glorious throne, And minds the covenant between all and One.

There is in God a deep but dazzling darkness.

But felt through all this fleshly dresse Bright shootes of everlastingnesse.

Happy those early days when I Shined in my Angel-infancy. Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy aught But a white, celestial thought; When yet I had not walked above A mile or two from my first love, And looking back (at that short space) Could see a glimpse of His bright face. When on some gilded cloud or flower My gazing soul would dwell an hour And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity.

Should poor souls fear a shade or night,
Who came sure from a sea of light?
Or since those drops are all sent back
So sure to thee, that none doth lack,
Why should frail flesh doubt any more
That what God takes, He'll not restore?

Death, and darkness get you packing, Nothing now to man is lacking, All your triumphs now are ended, And what Adam marred, is mended.

Dear Night! this world's defeat; The stop to busy fools; care's check and curb; The day of spirits; my soul's calm retreat Which none disturb! Christ's progress, and His prayer-time; The hours to which high Heaven cloth chime.

Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward steps would move, And when this dust falls to the urn In that state I came, return.

The sun doth shake Light from his locks, and, all the way Breathing perfumes, doth spice the day.

The skin and shell of things Though fair are not Thy wish nor prayer but got My meer despair of wings.