Perseverance

My God, the poor expressions of my LoveWhich warm these lines, and serve them up to theeAre so, as for the present I did move,Or rather as thou movedst me.

But what shall issue, whether these my wordsShall help another, but my judgement be;As a burst fowling-piece doth save the birdsBut kill the man, is sealed with thee.

For who can tell, though thou hast died to winAnd wed my soul in glorious paradise;Whether my many crimes and use of sinMay yet forbid the banes and bliss.

Only my soul hangs on thy promisesWith face and hands clinging unto thy breast,Clinging and crying, crying without cease,Thou art my rock, thou art my rest.

—George Herbert, “Perseverance” (from the Williams Manuscript)

This has been a frustrating and challenging year. Blow after blow. I am not the most optimistic of persons, but notwithstanding my own tendencies — it has been a struggle. I am working hard to not give up.