Monday Poetry: Lent

From Lent GEORGE HERBERT

Welcome deare feast of Lent: who loves not thee, 
He loves not Temperance,1 or Authoritie,
But is compos’d of passion. 
The Scriptures bid us fast;
 the Church sayes, now:
Give to thy Mother, what thou wouldst allow
To ev’ry Corporation.
... It’s true, we cannot reach Christ’s fortieth day; 
Yet to go part of that religious way,
Is better than to rest: 
We cannot reach our Savior’s purity;
Yet are bid, Be holy ev’n as he.
In both let’s do our best.
Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone,
 Is much more sure to meet with him, than one
That travelleth by-ways:
 Perhaps my God, though he be far before,
May turn, and take me by the hand, and more
May strengthen my decays.
Yet Lord instruct us to improve our fast 
By starving sin and taking such repast
As may our faults control: 
That ev’ry man may revel at his door,
Not in his parlor; banqueting the poor,
And among those his soul.