A Poem on Forgiveness

Here is my John Donne poem for the month:

A Hymn to God the Father

By John Donne

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,

         Which was my sin, though it were done before?

Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,

         And do run still, though still I do deplore?

                When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

                        For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won

         Others to sin, and made my sin their door?

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun

         A year or two, but wallow’d in, a score?

                When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

                        For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun

         My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;

But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son

         Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;

                And, having done that, thou hast done;

                        I fear no more.

A Prayer of Penitence

John Donne: A Prayer of Penitence

Act of Penitence

Forgive me, Lord, my sins

The sins of my youth,

The sins of the present;

The sins I laid upon myself in an ill pleasure,

The sins I cast upon others in an ill example;

The sins which are manifest to the whole world,

The sins which I have labored to hide from mine acquaintance,

            From mine own conscience,

            And even from my memory;

My crying sins and my whispering sins,

My ignorant sins and my willful;

Sins against my superiors, equals, servants,

Against my lovers and benefactors,

Sins against myself, mine own body, mine own soul,

Sins against thee, O almighty Father, O merciful Son,

            O blessed Spirit of God.

Forgive me, O Lord, through the merits of thine Anointed, my Savior, Jesus Christ.

John Donne

Once again something for the literary among us!

Resurrection, Imperfect by John Donne

I don’t know how many readers will like this, but what can I say? I was an English major in one of my lives! I really like John Donne who was a church of England cleric, and one of the metaphysical poets.  If you read the entire post, you will see that the poem is titled “Imperfect” because it was unfinished.

conversant faith

RESURRECTION, IMPERFECT

Sleep sleep old sun, thou canst not have repast
As yet, the wound thou took’st on Friday last;
Sleep then, and rest; the world may bear thy stay,
A better Sun rose before thee today,
Who, not content to enlighten all that dwell
On the earth’s face, as thou, enlightened hell,
And made the dark fires languish in that vale,
As, at thy presence here, our fires grow pale.
Whose body having walked on earth, and now
Hasting to heaven, would, that he might allow
Himself unto all stations, and fill all,
For these three days become a mineral;
He was all gold when he lay down but rose
All tincture, and doth not alone dispose
Leaden and iron wills to good, but is
Of power to make even sinful flesh like his.
Had one of those, whose credulous piety
Thought, that a soul one might discern and…

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