George Herbert

The shepherds sing; and shall I silent be?
     
     My God, no hymn for thee?


My soul’s a shepherd too; a flock it feeds

     Of thoughts, and words, and deeds.

The pasture is thy word: the streams, thy grace
  
     Enriching all the place.

Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers

     Outsing the daylight hours.

Then we will chide the sun for letting night

     Take up his place and right:

We sing one common Lord; wherefore he should 

     Himself the candle hold.

I will go searching, till I find a sun

     Shall stay, till we have done; 

A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly,

     As frost-nipt suns look sadly.

Then we will sing, and shine all our own day,

     And one another pay:

His beams shall cheer my breast, and both so twine,

Till ev’n his beams sing, and my music shine.