LORD, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became Most poore:
With thee O let me rise As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did beginne:
And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became Most thinne.
With thee Let me combine,
And feel this day thy victorie:
For, if I imp my wing on thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
--George Herbert (1593-1633)
Meet Nic Stone, Debut Author of Bestselling Novel ‘Dear Martin’ - Nic Stone's poignant and timely Dear Martin hit the ground running on Amazon this past week, trending #1 in the YA literature category. Here, we talk wit...