who hath delivered me out of the paws of the lion and bear, will also deliver me out of the hands of this uncircumcised Philistine.’—­Lastly, for those afflictions of the soul; consider that God intends that to be as a Sacred Temple for himself to dwell in, and will not allow any room there for such an inmate as grief; or allow that any sadness shall be his competitor.  And, above all, if any care of future things molest you, remember those admirable words of the Psalmist:  ‘Cast thy care on the Lord, and he shall nourish thee.’ [Psal. lv. 22.] To which join that of St. Peter, ’Casting all your care on the Lord, for he careth for you.’ [1 Pet. v. 7.] What an admirable thing is this, that God puts his shoulder to our burden, and entertains our care for us, that we may the more quietly intend his service!  To conclude, let me commend only one place more to you:  Philipp. iv. 4.  St. Paul saith there, ’Rejoice in the Lord always:  and again I say, rejoice.’  He doubles it to take away the scruple of those that might say, What, shall we rejoice in afflictions?  Yes, I say again, rejoice; so that it is not left to us to rejoice, or not rejoice; but, whatsoever befalls us, we must always, at all times, rejoice in the Lord, who taketh care for us.  And it follows in the next verses:  ’Let your moderation appear to all men:  The Lord is at hand:  Be careful for nothing.’  What can be said more comfortably?  Trouble not yourselves; God is at hand, to deliver us from all, or in all.—­Dear Madam, pardon my boldness, and accept the good meaning of

“Your most obedient son,

“GEORGE HERBERT.

“Trin.  Coll.  May 25th, 1622.”

[Sidenote:  Sickness]

About the year 1629, and the thirty-fourth of his age, Mr. Herbert was seized with a sharp quotidian ague, and thought to remove it by the change of air; to which end, he went to Woodford in Essex, but thither more chiefly to enjoy the company of his beloved brother, Sir Henry Herbert, and other friends then of that family.  In his house he remained about twelve months, and there became his own physician, and cured himself of his ague, by forbearing to drink, and not eating any meat, no not mutton, nor a hen, or pigeon, unless they were salted; and by such a constant diet he removed his ague, but with inconveniences that were worse; for he brought upon himself a disposition to rheums, and other weaknesses, and a supposed consumption.  And it is to be noted, that in the sharpest of his extreme fits he would often say, “Lord, abate my great affliction, or increase my patience:  but Lord, I repine not; I am dumb, Lord, before thee, because thou doest it.”  By which, and a sanctified submission to the will of God, he shewed he was inclinable to bear the sweet yoke of Christian discipline, both then and in the latter part of his life, of which there will be many true testimonies.

[Sidenote:  At Dauntsey]