O sacred Providence, who from end to end
Strongly and sweetly movest, shall I write,
And not of thee, through whom my fingers bend
To hold my quill? Shall they not do thee right?
Of all the creatures both in sea and land
Only to man hast thou made known thy ways,
And put the pen alone into his hand,
And made him secretary of thy praise.
Beasts fain would sing; birds dittie to their notes;
Trees would be tuning on their native lute
To thy renown; but all their hands and throats
Are brought to man, while they are lame and mute.
Man is the world’s high priest: he doth present
The sacrifice for all….
George Herbert (1593-1633), Providence.