Sin (I) by George Herbert

Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round!

      Parents first season us; then schoolmasters

      Deliver us to laws; they send us bound

To rules of reason, holy messengers,

Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow-dogging sin,

      Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes,

      Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in,

Bibles laid open, millions of surprises,

Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness,

      The sound of glory ringing in our ears,

      Without, our shame, within, our consciences,

Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears.

      Yet all these fences and their whole array

      One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away.