Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back
     Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
     From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
     If I lack’d anything.

“A guest,” I answer’d, “worthy to be here:”
     Love said, “You shall be he.”
“I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
     I cannot look on Thee.”
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
     “Who made the eyes but I?”

“Truth, Lord; but I have marr’d them: let my shame
     Go where it doth deserve.”
“And know you not,” says Love, “Who bore the blame?”
     “My dear, then I will serve.”
“You must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat.”
     So I did sit and eat.

                                                              – George Herbert

Why do I love this poem?  The last stanza breaks my heart with its beauty.  God says don’t worry about what you’ve done, about what you deserve – that’s been paid for.  Then I’ll serve you – let me feed your sheep, shovel manure, tend your gardens, sweep your floors.  And God says, sit down at my table, my son, and eat with me – fill yourself up.

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