Monday, July 7, 2008

A Hymn to Christ, at the Author's Last Going to Germany

IN what torn ship so ever I embark,

That ship shall be my emblem of Thy ark ;

What sea soever swallow me, that flood

Shall be to me an emblem of Thy blood ;

Though Thou with clouds of anger do disguise

Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes,

    Which, though they turn away sometimes,

        They never will despise.


I sacrifice this island unto Thee,

And all whom I love there, and who loved me ;

When I have put our seas 'twixt them and me,

Put thou Thy seas betwixt my sins and Thee.

As the tree's sap doth seek the root below

In winter, in my winter now I go,

    Where none but Thee, the eternal root

        Of true love, I may know.


Nor Thou nor Thy religion dost control

The amorousness of an harmonious soul ;

But Thou wouldst have that love Thyself ; as Thou

Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now ;

Thou lovest not, till from loving more Thou free

My soul ; Who ever gives, takes liberty ;

    Oh, if Thou carest not whom I love,

        Alas ! Thou lovest not me.


Seal then this bill of my divorce to all,

On whom those fainter beams of love did fall ;

Marry those loves, which in youth scatter'd be

On fame, wit, hopes—false mistresses—to Thee.

Churches are best for prayer, that have least light ;

To see God only, I go out of sight ;

    And to escape stormy days, I choose

        An everlasting night.

- John Donne

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