by George Herbert
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 any thing.
A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, 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, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
Shared by my English professor in class this week. I didn't expect to nearly come to tears while writing a poetry analysis worksheet. Read it several times and place yourself in the shoes of the unworthy guest in this conversation with Jesus.
Herbert, George. "Love (III)." The Works of George Herbert. Ed. F. E. Hutchinson, Oxford: Clarendon, 1941. 188-89. Print.