Even Song
Blest be the God of love,
Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day,
Both to be busie, and to play.
But much more blest be God above,
Who gave me sight alone,
Which to himself he did deny:
For when he sees my ways, I die:
But I have got his son, and he hath none.
What have I brought thee home
For this thy love? have I discharg'd the debt,
Which this day's favour did beget?
I ran; but all I brought, was foam.
Thy diet, care, and cost
Do end in bubbles, balls of wind;
Of wind to thee whom I have crossed,
But balls of wild-fire to my troubled mind.
Yet still thou goest on,
And now with darkness closest weary eyes,
Saying to man, It doth suffice :
Henceforth repose; your work is done.
Thus in thy Ebony box
Thou dost inclose us, till the day
Put our amendment in our way,
And give new wheels to our disorder'd clocks.
I muse, which shows more love,
The day or night: that is the gale, this th' harbour;
That is the walk, and this the arbour;
Or that the garden, this the grove.
My God, thou art all love.
Not one poor minute scapes thy breast,
But brings a favour from above;
And in this love, more then in bed, I rest.
" I will lay me down in peace and take my rest; for it is thou, Lord, only, that makest me dwell in safety." (Psalm 4.9) This in itself is a sufficient prayer of personal commitment to the faithful love of God. Evensong condensed to a one line liturgy.
But Herbert has more to say, and echoes the Book of Common Prayer with his poem about confession and thanksgiving as the balancing principles of each day's audit.
The first and last stanzas read consecutively would make a fine two verse conclusion to most days, the mind and soul settling down contented, secure and blessed, and ready to sleep. Instead there is this lengthy list of self-recriminations that threaten to turn evensong into a litany of failed devotion.
But Herbert knows what he is doing. He starts where he means to end by praying to the God of love. The next three stanzas explore his own inner world as he has journeyed through the day, and there is much to regret, and for which the God above rightly judges him. Despite the gift of the Saviour, and his own sins' part in crucifying the Christ, he is still incapable of a love that would prevent his continuing sins of omission and commission. But he does go on about it! If he isn't careful, the poet will talk himself out of sleep and rest, and stew in the juices of his own guilt, which is just another sin of self-indulgence!
Then God interrupts the flow of self-condemning verbiage: "It doth suffice:/Henceforth repose: your work is done." I can almost hear Herbert's inner reciting of I John 1 "If we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." The sins are confessed. It doth suffice. Now get to sleep. Your work is done. It is God's work to forgive, and that too, is already done.
If God is all love then his love is constant whether day or night, in the storm or the harbour, the open meadow or enclosed garden: wherever and whenever "My God, thou art all love." The poem ends where it began, and Herbert realises that God knows every minute of his existence, and every minute has its blessing. While Herbert may be over-scrupulous in making an inventory of his unworthiness, God is just as faithfully scrupulous in filling every blessed moment of his life with favour. Finally, having been calmed down, he repeats to himself and says to God, "My God thou art all love…and in this love, more then in bed, I rest."
When it has been a bad day, and we wish we could unsay certain words, and we can't seem to erase from our memory grievances that still rankle with hurt and anger, and we rehearse and replay in the mind all our frantic activity to win approval, to be acknowledged, to be liked and have our self-image projected out there, just admit it. Confess it and face up to your own faults. But for God's sake don't make your failures more important than God's love and Christ's cross. Having had your say, and God having heard every painful word of it, pray, "I will lay me down in peace and take my rest; for it is thou, Lord, only, that makest me dwell in safety…My God thou art all love…and in this love, more then in bed, I rest."
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