"If thou chance for to find A new house to thy mind, And built without thy cost; Be good to the poor, As God gives thee Store And then my labor's not lost." His life, one would think, was busy enough, and full enough, yet amid it all he found time to write. Besides many poems he wrote for his own guidance a book called The Country Parson. It is a book, says Walton, "so full of plain, prudent, and useful rules that that country parson that can spare 12d. and yet wants it is scarce excusable." But Herbert's happy, useful days at Bemerton were all too short. In 1632, before he had held his living three years, he died, and was buried by his sorrowing people beneath the altar of his own little church. It was not until after his death that his poems were published. On his death-bed he left the book in which he had written them to a friend. "Desire him to read it," he said, "and if he can think it may turn to the advantage of any dejected poor soul, let it be made public. If not let him burn it." The book was published under the name of The Temple. All the poems are short except the first, called The Church Porch. From that I will quote a few lines. It begins: "Thou whose sweet youth and early hopes enchance Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure, Hearken unto a Verser, who may chance Ryme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure. A verse may find him who a sermon flies, And turn delight into a sacrifice. . . . . . . . "Lie not, but let thy heart be true to God, Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both: Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod; The stormy-working soul spits lies and froth Dare to be true: nothing can need a lie; A fault which needs it most, grows two thereby. . . . . . . . "Art thou a magistrate? then be severe: If studious, copy fair what Time hath blurr'd, Redeem truth from his jaws: if soldier, Chase brave employment with a naked sword Throughout the world. Fool not; for all may have, If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave. . . . . . . . "Do all things like a man, not sneakingly; Think the King sees thee still; for his King does. Simpring is but a lay-hypocrisy; Give it a corner and the clue undoes. Who fears to do ill set himself to task, Who fears to do well sure should wear a mask."