by Thomas Traherne


How easily doth Nature teach the soul
How irresistible is her infusion!
There's nothing found that can her force control
But sin. How weak and feeble's all delusion!


Things false are forc'd and most elaborate,
Things pure and true are obvious unto sense;
The first impressions in our earthly state
Are made by things most great in excellence.


How easy is it to believe the sky
Is wide and great and fair! How soon may we
Be made to know the Sun is bright and high,
And very glorious, when its beams we see!


That all the Earth is one continued globe,
And that all men therein are living treasures,
That fields and meadows are a glorious robe
Adorning it with smooth and heavenly pleasures.


That all we see is ours, and every one
Possessor of the whole; that every man
Is like a God Incarnate on the Throne,
Even like the first for whom the world began;


Whom all are taught to honour, serve, and love,
Because he is belov'd of God unknown;
And therefore is on Earth itself above
All others, that His wisdom might be shewn.


That all may happy be, each one most blest,
Both in himself and others; all most high,
While all by each, and each by all possest
Are intermutual joys beneath the sky.


This shows a wise contrivance, and discovers
Some great Creator sitting on the Throne,
That so disposeth things for all His lovers,
That every one might reign like God alone.

Monadnock Valley Press > Traherne