Poem: “Easter Wings” – George Herbert

Easter Wings.
George Herbert.

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With  thee
Oh let me rise
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day  thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My  tender  age  in  sorrow   did   beginne:
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou  didst  so  punish  sinne,
That  I  became
Most thinne.
With  thee
Let me combine
And feel this day thy victorie:
For,  if  I  imp  my  wing  on  thine
Affliction shall  advance the  flight in  me.

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C. Christopher Smith

C. Christopher Smith is the founding editor of The Englewood Review of Books. He is also author of a number of books, including most recently How the Body of Christ Talks: Recovering the Practice of Conversation in the Church (Brazos Press, 2019). Connect with him online at: C-Christopher-Smith.com