by George Herbert
Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word He is a brittle, crazy glass Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place, To be a window through thy grace. But when thou dost anneal in glass thy story, Making thy life to shine within The holy preachers, then the light and glory More reverend grows, and more doth win, Which else shows wat'rish, bleak, and thin. Doctrine and life, colors and light, in one When they combine and mingle, bring A strong regard and awe: but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing And in the ear not conscience ring.
The Shepherd's Staff 