January 27
He first loved us
Companions of the Way (Evening)HE seeks for ours as we do seek for His; Nay, O my soul, ours is far more His bliss Than His is ours; at least it so doth seem, Both in His own and our esteem.
His earnest love, His infinite desires, His living, endless, and devouring fires, Do rage in thirst, and fervently require A love 'tis strange it should desire.
We cold and careless are, and scarcely think Upon the glorious spring whereat we drink. Did He not love us we could be content: We wretches are indifferent!
'Tis death, my soul, to be indifferent; Set forth thyself unto thy whole extent, And all the glory of His passion prize, Who for thee lives, Who for thee dies.
THOMAS TRAHERNE
THE DAY'S WORK