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In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
Robert Herrick
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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Hours
Confess
Spirit
Distress
Sins
Temptation
Hour
Sin
Comfort
Oppress
Sweet
Temptations
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You say to me-wards your affection's strong Pray love me little, so you love me long.
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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
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Give house-room to the best 'tis never known Verture and pleasure both to dwell in one.
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Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
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Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
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Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
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Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.
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When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When his potion and his pill, Has, or none, or little skill, Meet for nothing, but to kill Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
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Feed him ye must, whose food fills you. And that this pleasure is like raine, Not sent ye for to drowne your paine, But for to make it spring againe.
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Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score: Then to that twenty, add a hundred more.
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Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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Oft have I heard both youths and virgins say, Birds chuse their mates and couple too this day: But by their flight I never can devine When I shall couple with my valentine.
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Then be not coy, but use your time And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
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The May-pole is up, Now give me the cup I'll drink to the garlands around it But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
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