Gratefulnesse
The Beggar's Craft
The speaker acknowledges his own audacity in using God's past gifts as leverage to ask for one more: a grateful heart.
You who have given so much to me, give one thing more: a grateful heart. See how craftily your beggar works on you.1 He uses your gifts as a reason to ask for more, and says that if he's refused in this, everything you've given him until now is lost.
God's Patient Accounting
God foresaw our insatiable longing and persistent knocking, yet in His patience He accepted even our groans as joy.
But you considered, when your word first made our hearts and hands long, what it would come to at worst, in order to save: Perpetual knockings at your door, tears sullying your transparent rooms, gift upon gift—much would have more—and comes.2 Even so, you went on, and let us make all our noise. No—you've made a sigh and a groan your joys.
The Country Airs of Love
God's love stoops to accept our humble, imperfect praises—our 'country airs'—even though He possesses far greater melodies.
Not that you don't still have, above, much better tunes than groans can make—but that your love took these country airs.
The Pulse of Praise
The speaker renews his cry for a heart that praises God not intermittently but as its constant, natural rhythm.
So I cry, and cry again; and you can have no quiet until I obtain a thankful heart from you: Not thankful only when it suits me, as if your blessings had days off, but with a heart whose pulse may be your praise.3
Read the original English
THou that hast giv'n so much to me, Give one thing more, a gratefull heart. See how thy beggar works on thee By art.
He makes thy gifts occasion more, And sayes, If he in this be crost, All thou hast giv'n him heretofore Is lost.
But thou didst reckon, when at first Thy word our hearts and hands did crave, What it would come to at the worst To save:
Perpetuall knockings at thy doore, Tears sullying thy transparent rooms, Gift upon gift, much would have more, And comes.
This notwithstanding, thou wentst on, And didst allow us all our noise: Nay, thou hast made a sigh and grone Thy joyes.
Not that thou hast not still above Much better tunes, then grones can make; But that these countrey-aires thy love Did take.
Wherefore I crie, and crie again; And in no quiet canst thou be, Till I a thankfull heart obtain Of thee:
Not thankfull, when it pleaseth me; As if thy blessings had spare-dayes: But such a heart, whose pulse may be Thy praise.
Notes
- 1 ↩Source 'art' means skill or craft in petitioning, not fine art; rendered as 'craft' to keep Herbert's sense of cunning address.
- 2 ↩“much would have more” keeps Herbert’s proverbial compression: those who already have much still want still more; the elliptical “And comes” means that endless wanting keeps arriving at God’s door.
- 3 ↩Herbert's spare-dayes means spare/idle days—days when blessings supposedly take time off, so gratitude could skip them. Rendered as 'days off' to keep that conceit plain.
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