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- Feb 13, 2005
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I'm in a poetic mood again today.
Here's one by Henry Vaughan:
The Dwelling Place
(John 1:38, 39)
What happy, secret fountain,
Fair shade, or mountain,
Whose undiscovered virgin glory
Boasts it this day, though not in story,
Was then thy dwelling? did some cloud
Fixed to a Tent, descend and shroud
My distressed Lord? or did a star
Beckoned by thee, though high and far
In sparkling smiles haste gladly down
To lodge light, and increase her own?
My dear, dear God! I do not know
What lodged thee then, nor where, nor how;
But I am sure, thou dost now come
Oft to a narrow, homely room,
Where thou too hast but the least part,
My God, I mean my sinful heart.
--Henry Vaughan
The Dwelling Place
(John 1:38, 39)
What happy, secret fountain,
Fair shade, or mountain,
Whose undiscovered virgin glory
Boasts it this day, though not in story,
Was then thy dwelling? did some cloud
Fixed to a Tent, descend and shroud
My distressed Lord? or did a star
Beckoned by thee, though high and far
In sparkling smiles haste gladly down
To lodge light, and increase her own?
My dear, dear God! I do not know
What lodged thee then, nor where, nor how;
But I am sure, thou dost now come
Oft to a narrow, homely room,
Where thou too hast but the least part,
My God, I mean my sinful heart.
--Henry Vaughan