by Henry Vaughan

           WHEN to my Eyes
Whilst deep sleep others catches,
           Thine host of spies,
The stars, shine in their watches,
           I do survey
           Each busy ray,
And how they work, and wind ;
           And wish each beam
           My soul doth stream
With the like ardour shin'd ;
           What emanations,
           Quick vibrations,
And bright stirs are there !
           What thin ejections,
           Cold affections,
And slow motions here !


           Thy heav'ns, some say,
Are a fiery-liquid light,
           Which mingling aye
Streams, and flames thus to the sight.
           Come then, my God !
           Shine on this blood
And water, in one beam ;
           And Thou shalt see
           Kindled by Thee
Both liquors burn, and stream.
           O what bright quickness,
           Active brightness,
And celestial flows,
           Will follow after
           On that water,
Which Thy Spirit blows !


    I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance, but
He that cometh after me is mightier than I ; Whose
shoes I am not worthy to bear ; He shall baptize
you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire.

Vaughan, Henry. The Poems of Henry Vaughan, Silurist. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, Ed. London, Lawrence & Bullen Ltd., 1896. 63-64.

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