The Feast Of John Donne

Donne was one of the Metaphysical Poets of the late 16th/early 17th centuries; he is often considered the founder of that school of English verse.  This is how I was introduced to him, at any rate, when I was a public school student.  I would be a teenager before anyone bothered to tell me [or I bothered to discover myself] that he was also a priest in the Church of England whose highest office was that of dean of St. Paul's Cathedral in London.

Our clergy had a noble and nimble history in the arts and the intellectual life once upon a time.  While there are still pockets of resistance to contemporary educational trends, the bulk of our academic attention is now claimed in more facile disciplines.  Oh, well, nowadays we'll have to let a strongly worded letter to the editor or online comments about the Tea Party or gun owners suffice as our literary effort.

Much more of Donne's life may be found here.

A Hymn to God, the Father

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.      

Almighty God, the root and fountain of all being: Open our eyes to see, with your servant John Donne, that whatever has any being is a mirror in which we may behold you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.