Easter Wings

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With thee, O let me rise
As larks, harmonious and divine,
With thee I would ascend
To the loftier skies!
There, with a naked heart,
Behold thy face and sing;
Where all the arts and worlds have flown,
And far more weighty subjects gone.
Let me remember thee,
For that after-death,
Our spirits soar
Even here, and make a place
Where mercy’s footsteps die.

• George Herbert