Minor Prophets...

President David O. McKay used to refer to the great literary Authors as the "minor prophets" upon hearing that my curiosity led me to sample some poetry, I share now a poem that has touched the threads of my Spirit, strengthening my resolve to be better than I now am:

The World
by Henry Vaughan

I saw Eternity the other night
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm as it was bright;
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,
Driven by the spheres
Like a vast shadow moved; in which the world
And all her train were hurled.
The doting lover in his quaintest strain
Did there complain;
...
The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe
...
Condemning thoughts-like sad eclipses-scowl
Upon his soul
...
The fearful miser on a heap of rust
Sat pining all his life there, did scarce trust
His own hands with the dust,
...
Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing,
And sing and weep, soared up into the ring;
But most would use no wing.
Oh fools, said I, thus to prefer dark night
Before true light!
To live in grots and caves, and hate the day
Because it shows the way;
The way, which from this dead and dark abode
Leads up to God;
A way where you might tread the sun, and be
More bright than he!
But as I did their madness so discuss,
One whispered thus,
"This ring the Bridegroom did for none provide,
But for His bride."

The complete poem can be seen by clicking on the name of the poem.