Henry Vaughan Quotes

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, Driv'n by the spheres Like a vast shadow moved; in which the world And all her train were hurled.

Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just! Shining nowhere but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark!

Dear, harmless age! the short, swift span Where weeping Virtue parts with man; Where love without lust dwells, and bends What way we please without self-ends. <p> An age of mysteries! which he Must live that would God's face see Which angels guard, and with it play, Angels! which foul men drive away.

Holy writing must strive (by all means) for perfection and true holiness, that a door may be opened to him in heaven.

When yet I had not walk'd above A mile or two from my first Love, And looking back, at that short space Could see a glimpse of His bright face; When on some gilded cloud or flower My gazing soul would dwell an hour, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity; Before I taught my tongue to wound My conscience with a sinful sound, Or had the black art to dispense A several sin to every sense, But felt through all this fleshly dress Bright shoots of everlastingness.

When thou dost shine, darkness looks white and fair, Forms turn to musick, clouds to smiles and air; Rain gently spends his honey-drops, and pours Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers. Bright pledge of peace and sun-shine! the sure tye Of thy Lord's hand, the object of his eye. When I behold thee, though my light be dim, Distant, and low, I can in thine see Him Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne, And mindes the covenant 'twixt all and One.

Then bless thy secret growth, nor catch At noise, but thrive unseen and dumb; Keep clean, be as fruit, earn life, and watch Till the white-wing’d reapers come!

My soul, there is a country Far beyond the stars Where stands a wingèd sentry All skillful in the wars: There, above noise and danger, Sweet Peace is crowned with smiles, And One born in a manger Commands the beauteous files.

Why should I not love childhood still? Why, if I see a rock or shelf, Shall I from thence cast down myself? Or by complying with the world, From the same precipice be hurled? Those observations are but foul, Which make me wise to lose my soul. <p> And yet the practice worldlings call Business, and weighty action all, Checking the poor child for his play, But gravely cast themselves away.

Happy those early days, when I Shined in my angel-infancy! Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race.

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.

Still young and fine! but what is still in view We slight as old and soil'd, though fresh and new.

As men are killed by fighting, the truth is lost in disputing.

I will on thee as on a comet look, A comet, the sad world's ill-boding book; Thy light as luctual and stain'd with woes I'll judge, where penal flames sit mixt and close. But though some think thou shin'st but to restrain Bold storms, and simply dost attend on rain; Yet I know well, and so our sins require, Thou dost but court cold rain, till rain turns fire.

They are all gone into the world of light! And I alone sit lingering here; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear.