Thomas Traherne

The Estate

But shall my Soul no Wealth possess?
No Outward Riches have?
Shall Hands and Eys alone express
Thy Bounty, which the Grave
Will soon devour? Shall I becom
Within my self a Living Tomb
Of useless Wonders? Shall the fair, and brave,
And great Endowments of my Soul ly waste;
Which ought to be a Fountain and a Womb
Of Praises unto Thee?
Shall there no Outward Objects be
For these to see and taste?
Not so, my God, for other Joys and Pleasures
Are the Occasion that my Limbs are Treasures.

My Palat is a Touch-stone fit
To taste how Good Thou art;
My other Members second it,
Thy Praises to impart:
There's not an Ey that's fram'd by Thee
But is thy Life and Lov to see:
Nor is there, Lord, upon mine Head, an Ear,
But that the Musick of Thy Works should hear:
Each Toe, each Finger, by thy pow'rful Skill
Created, should distill
Ambrosia; more than Nectar flow
From evry Joint I ow,
B'ing well-imploy'd; for they Thy Holy Will
Are activ Instruments made to fulfill.

Elixirs richer are than Dross;
The End is more divine
Than are the Means: But Dung and Loss
Materials (tho they shine
Like Gold and Silver) are, compar'd
To what Thy Spirit doth regard,
Thy Will require, Thy Lov embrace, thy Mind
Esteem, thy Wisdom most illustrious find.
These are the Things God reckons His Reward;
An grateful Heart that pays
Homage to Him without Delays;
A Tongue that's us'd to prais;
A bended Knee; an Ey fixt on the Skies;
A du Emploiment of our Faculties.

For this the Hev'ns were made as well
As Earth, the spacious Seas
Are ours: the Stars that Gems excell,
And Air, design'd to pleas
Our Earthly part; the very Fire
For Uses which our Needs require:
The Orb of Light in its wide Circuit movs;
Corn for our Food springs out of very Mire;
Fences and Fewel grow in Woods and Groves;
Choice Herbs and Flow'rs aspire
To kiss our Feet; Beasts court our Lovs.
How Glorious is Man's Fate!
The Laws of God, the Works He did creäte,
His ancient Ways, are His and My ESTATE.