|Lilias Trotter (1853-1928), a sketch in her journal|
Love knocked on my door, yet my soul drew back,
guilty of dust and sin.
"Please," I said, "don't come in."
Love knocked again, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked anything.
"I am unkind, ungrateful," I answered,
"Please don't look on me. I cannot look on thee."
"Who made the eyes but I?"
"Truth, Lord, but I have marred them;
leave me in my darkness and shame."
"And know you not," said Love,
"who bore the blame?"
"My Lord," I opened the door,
"then I will serve."
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
"You must sit down, and taste my meat."
So, I did sit and eat.
Adapted from George Herbert (1593-1633), Love (III).