Sunday Poem.

Today the woke invaded my church, and indicated that we needed educating. Unfortunately, they discussed an area where my family has involvement and I have much knowledge [1]. A fair amount of those who think they know history have not read the original sources or talked to the families. They are indoctrinated, not educated. But this is a battle.

The Woke are everywhere. They’re in our schools, in government, and at our places of work. More importantly, the Woke are on the move. They are coming for you, for me, and for anyone else who does not subscribe to their quasi-religion. Don’t fool yourself — you are not safe. The Woke are at war with anyone who opposes them, and it does not matter if you just want to be left alone. You will have to bend the knee or fight.

There has always been a spiritual battle, and spiritual warfare. Herbert lived in the time of the Stuart Kings, when the Puritans and High Church were fighting in church courts and Parliament. Though he died a decade before the English Civil War, the ideological conflict continued.

And Herbert bent the knee to God, and to his King: to no other.

Artillery

As I one evening sat before my cell,
Methought a star did shoot into my lap.
I rose and shook my clothes, as knowing well
That from small fires comes oft no small mishap;
When suddenly I heard one say,
“Do as thou usest, disobey,
Expel good motions from thy breast,
Which have the face of fire, but end in rest.”

I, who had heard of music in the spheres,
But not of speech in stars, began to muse;
But turning to my God, whose ministers
The stars and all things are: “If I refuse,
Dread Lord,” said I, “so oft my good,
Then I refuse not ev’n with blood
To wash away my stubborn thought;
For I will do or suffer what I ought.

“But I have also stars and shooters too,
Born where thy servants both artilleries use.
My tears and prayers night and day do woo
And work up to thee; yet thou dost refuse.
Not but I am (I must say still)
Much more obliged to do thy will
Than thou to grant mine; but because
Thy promise now hath ev’n set thee thy laws.

“Then we are shooters both, and thou dost deign
To enter combat with us, and contest
With thine own clay. But I would parley fain:
Shun not my arrows, and behold my breast.
Yet if thou shunnest, I am thine:
I must be so, if I am mine.
There is no articling with thee:
I am but finite, yet thine infinitely.”

George Herbert


  1. I have an ancestor who set up a photography business during the Taranaki Land Wars and the joined the Armed Constabulary. We also have an oral history, now suppressed.

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