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« I Am the War I Fight | Main | From cynicism to joy »
Sunday
Jan272019

Holy Sonnet 15

Wilt thou love God, as he thee? Then digest,
My soul, this wholesome meditation:
How God the Spirit, by angels waited on
In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy breast.
The father having begot a Son most blest,
And still begetting -- for he ne'er begun --
Hath deigned to choose thee by adoption,
Co-heir to his glory, and Sabbath's endless rest.
And as a robbed man, which my search doth find
His stolen stuff sold, must lose or buy it again,
The Son of glory came down, and was slain,
Us whom he had made and Satan stolen, to unbind.
'Twas much, that man was made like God before,
But, that God should be made like man, much more.

-- John Donne

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