Rise heart; they Lord is risen. Sing his praise
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
With him may rise:
That as his death calcinѐd thee to dust,
His life may make thee gold, and much more, just.
Awake my lute and struggle for they part
With all they art.
The cross taught all wood to resound his name,
Who bore the same.
His stretched sinews taught all strings , what key
is best to celebrate the most high day.
I got me flowers to strew the way,
I got me boughs off many a tree:
But thou wast up by break of day,
And brought’st thy sweets along with thee
The sun arising in the East,
though he give light, and th’ East perfume ;
If they should offer to contest
With thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this,
Though many suns to shine endeavor?
We count three hundred, but we miss:
There is but one, and that one ever.
By George Herbert.