Yet never sleep the sun up. Prayer shou'd Dawn with the day. There are set, awful hours 'Twixt heaven and us. The… — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
Holy writing must strive (by all means) for perfection and true holiness, that a door may be opened to him in heaven. — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
Prayer is The world in tune, A spirit-voyce, And vocall joyes, Whose Eccho is heaven's blisse. — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
Dear Night! this world's defeat; The stop to busy fools; care's check and curb; The day of spirits; my soul's calm retreat… — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
Bright shadows of true rest! some shoots of bliss; Heaven once a week; The next world's gladness prepossest in this; A day… — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
The skin and shell of things Though fair are not Thy wish nor prayer but got My meer despair of wings. — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
Early, as well as late, Rise with the sun, and set in the same bowers — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
A ward, and still in bonds, one day I stole abroad; It was high spring, and all the way Primrosed and hung with shade;… — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
I played with fire, did counsel spurn, Made life my common stake; But never thought that fire would burn, O that a soul could… — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
They are all gone into the world of light, and I alone sit lingering here. — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
“ The Dawning Ah! what time wilt Thou come? when shall that cry, The Bridegroom’s coming! fill the sky; Shall it in the evening… — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine! the sure tie Of thy Lord's hand, the object of His eye! When I behold thee, though my… — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
For each inclosed spirit is a star Enlightening his own little sphere — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
Yet never sleep the sun up. Prayer shou'd Dawn with the day. There are set, awful hours 'Twixt heaven and us. The manna was… — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
Sure thou did'st nourish once! and many springs, Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, Passed o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings,… — Henry Vaughan Copy Share Image
