King of Glory, King of Peace, I will love Thee: And that love may never cease, I will move Thee. Thou hast granted my request, Thou hast heard me: Thou didst note my working breast, Thou hast spared me. Wherefore with my utmost art I will sing Thee, And the cream of all my heart I will bring Thee. Though my sins against me cried, Thou didst clear me; And alone, when they replied, Thou didst hear me. Seven whole days, not one in seven, I will praise Thee. In my heart, though not in heaven, I can raise Thee. Thou grew’st soft and moist with tears, Thou relentedst: And when Justice called for fears, Thou dissentedst. Small it is, in this poor sort To enrol Thee: Even eternity’s too short To extol Thee. THE CALL Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life: Such a Way, as gives us breath: Such a Truth, as ends all strife: Such a Life, as killeth death. Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength: Such a Light, as shows a feast: Such a Feast, as mends in length: Such a Strength, as makes His guest. Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart: Such a Joy, as none can move: Such a Love, as none can part: Such a Heart, as joys in love. After Herbert comes Henry Vaughan (1621-95), ‘the Silurist,’ or South Wales man, who says that his master was ‘the blessed man, Mr. George Herbert, whose holy life and verse gained many pious converts, of whom I am the least.’ Vaughan had his devoted admirers, but his verse never attained anything approaching to the popularity of Herbert’s. It was long the fashion to ignore or disparage him, and it was not till Henry Francis Lyte republished his _Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations_, with a brief memoir, that he came to his rightful place amongst the minor, but not to be forgotten, poets of the seventeenth century. He was a mystic, and had visions Blake might have envied. I saw Eternity the other night, Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm as it was bright: And round beneath it, Time, in hours, days, years, Driven by the spheres, Like a vast shadow moved, in which the world And all her train were hurled. Vaughan’s songs have the marks of the true Christian poet—intense devotion to Christ, humility, ecstasy. His best-known hymns are—‘My soul, there is a country,’ and ‘Up to those bright and gladsome hills’ (Ps. cxxi.). I give one less often quoted. Vaughan’s title is BEGGING King of Mercy, King of Love, In whom I live, in whom I move, Perfect what Thou has begun, Let no night put out this Sun. Grant I may, my chief desire, Long for Thee, to Thee aspire. Let my youth, my bloom of days, Be my comfort, and Thy praise; That hereafter, when I look O’er the sullied, sinful book, I may find Thy hand therein Wiping out my shame and sin.