George Herbert — Discipline

THROW away Thy rod, Throw away Thy wrath;        &nbsp O my God, Take the gentle path! For my heart's desire Unto Thine is bent:        &nbsp I aspire To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own,        &nbsp But by book, And Thy Book alone. Though I fail, I weep; Though I halt in pace,        &nbsp Yet I creep To the throne of grace. Then let wrath remove; Love will do the deed;        &nbsp For with love Stony hearts will bleed. Love is swift of foot; Love 's a man of war,        &nbsp And can shoot, And can hit from far. Who can 'scape his bow? That which wrought on Thee,        &nbsp Brought Thee low, Needs must work on me. Throw away Thy rod; Though man frailties hath,        &nbsp Thou art God: Throw away Thy wrath!