My God! Thou that didst die for me,
These thy death’s fruits I offer thee;
Death that to me was life and light,
But dark and deep pangs to thy sight.
Some drops of thy all-quick’ning blood
Fell on my heart; those made it bud
And put forth thus, though Lord, before
The ground was cursed, and void of store.
Indeed I had some here to hire
Which long resisted thy desire,
That stoned thy servants, and did move
To have thee murhered for thy love;
But Lord, I have expelled them, and so bent,
Beg, thou wouldst take thy tenant’s rent.
--Henry Vaughan, from Silex Scintillans, 1655