Oh Book! infinite sweetness! let my heart <br />Suck ev'ry letter, and a honey gain, <br />Precious for any grief in any part; <br />To clear the breast, to mollify all pain. <br />Thou art all health, health thriving, till it make <br />A full eternity: thou art a mass <br />Of strange delights, where we may wish and take. <br />Ladies, look here; this is the thankfull glass, <br />That mends the looker's eyes: this is the well <br />That washes what it shows. Who can endear <br />Thy praise too much? thou art heav'n's Lidger here, <br />Working against the states of death and hell. <br />Thou art joy's handsel: heav'n lies flat in thee, <br />Subject to ev'ry mounter's bended knee.<br /><br />George Herbert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-h-scriptures-i/
