The Poetical Works of Thomas Traherne, 1636?-1674, from the original manuscriptsTraherne, Thomas
General
The Poetical Works of Thomas Traherne, 1636?-1674, from the original manuscripts
Traherne, Thomas
English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700
Almighty power when it is employed
For one, that He with glory might be crown'd;
Eternal wisdom when it is enjoyed
By one whom all its pleasures do surround,
Produce a creature that must, all his days,
Return the sacrifice of endless praise.
XII
But Oh! the vigour of mine infant sense
Drives me too far: I had not yet the eye,
The apprehension, or intelligence
Of things so very great, divine, and high.
But all things were eternal unto me,
And mine, and pleasing which mine eye did see.
XIII
That was enough at first: eternity,
Infinity, and love were silent joys;
Power, wisdom, goodness, and felicity;
All these which now our care and sin destroys,
By instinct virtually were well discern'd,
And by their representatives were learn'd.
XIV
As sponges gather moisture from the earth
Whereon there is scarce any sign of dew;
As air infecteth salt: so at my birth
All these were unperceiv'd, yet near and true:
Not by reflexion, and distinctly known,
But by their efficacy all mine own.
THE APPROACH[I]
I
That childish thoughts such joys inspire,
Doth make my wonder and His glory higher:
His bounty and my wealth more great,
It shows His Kingdom and His Work complete:
In which there is not anything
Not meet to be the joy of Cherubim.
II
He in our childhood with us walks,
And with our thoughts mysteriously he talks;
He often visiteth our minds,
But cold acceptance in us ever finds:
We send Him often grieved away;
Else would He shew us all His Kingdom's joy.
III
O Lord, I wonder at Thy Love,
Which did my Infancy so early move:
But more at that which did forbear,
And move so long, tho' slighted many a year:
But most of all, at last that Thou
Thyself shouldst me convert I scarce know how.
IV
Thy Gracious motions oft in vain
Assaulted me: my heart did hard remain
Long time: I sent my God away,
Grieved much that He could not impart His joy.
I careless was, nor did regard
The end for which He all those thoughts prepar'd;
V
But now with new and open eyes,
I see beneath as if above the skies;
And as I backward look again,
See all His thoughts and mine most clear and plain.
He did approach, He me did woo;
I wonder that my God this thing would do.
VI
From nothing taken first I was;
What wondrous things His glory brought to pass!
Now in this world I Him behold,
And me enveloped in more than gold;
In deep abysses of delights,
In present hidden precious benefits.
VII
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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