Arise my body, my small body, we have striven <br />Enough, and He is merciful; we are forgiven. <br />Arise small body, puppet-like and pale, and go, <br />White as the bed-clothes into bed, and cold as snow, <br />Undress with small, cold fingers and put out the light, <br />And be alone, hush'd mortal, in the sacred night, <br />-A meadow whipt flat with the rain, a cup <br />Emptied and clean, a garment washed and folded up, <br />Faded in colour, thinned almost to raggedness <br />By dirt and by the washing of that dirtiness. <br />Be not too quickly warm again. Lie cold; consent <br />To weariness' and pardon's watery element. <br />Drink up the bitter water, breathe the chilly death; <br />Soon enough comes the riot of our blood and breath.<br /><br />Clive Staples Lewis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-prayers-lie-cold-2/
