A Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth;
wake sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns;
Unfold thy forehead gather’d into frowns:
Thy Savior comes, and with him mirth:
Awake, awake;
And with a thankful heart his comforts take.
But thou dost still lament, and pine, and cry;
And feel his death, but not his victory.
Arise sad heart; if thou dost
not withstand,
Christ’s resurrection thine may be:
Do not by hanging down break from the hand
Which as it riseth, raiseth thee:
Arise, arise;
And with his burial-linen dry thine eyes.
Christ left his grave-clothes, that we might, when
grief
Draws tears, or blood, not want a handkerchief.
George Herbert (d. 1633) English