Death:
“Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing,
Nothing but bones,
The sad effect of sadder groans:
Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing.
…
But since our Saviour’s death did put some blood
Into thy face,
Thou art grown fair and full of grace,
Much in request, much sought for, as a good.”
Time:
Christ’s coming hath made man thy debtor,
Since by thy cutting he grows better.
And in his blessing thou art blest:
For where thou only wert before
An executioner at best;
Thou art a gardener now, and more,
An usher to convey our souls
Beyond the utmost stars and poles.
I like Herbert’s sympathy here for his anthropomorphized Death and Time. In his vision, it’s not only people who get saved by Christ’s coming.
