A Cry for Forgiveness

Tucked away in long-forgotten manuscripts and dusty tomes are some of the best examples of Christian writing ever produced. These precious prayers, prose, and poems by godly men and women of the past often lie undiscovered except by a few scholars. One of my goals is to bring some of these lost treasures back into the light of day, not only for my own spiritual encouragement but hopefully for others to also discover and enjoy.

Today's selection is a hymn by one of my favorite poets, John Donne. Although the word choice may seem pretty archaic, take the time to read the words slowly and carefully. See if you can identify with his cry for forgiveness and his faith that forgiveness will be given.

AN 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’ve 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.

--from John Donne's Devotions by John Donne

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Invitation

Often there is a desire to grow in God, but the vines of the enemy wrap around us, keeping us earthbound. Entangled in our own selfishness and fleshly concerns, we finally come to the point where we realize that nothing we can do in our own strength can free us. We are enslaved, and the only way to "escape" is to ask another master to take control. While it seems counter-intuitive, this invitation for God's spiritual invasion is the only way to freedom.

The English Metaphysical poet John Donne (1572-1631) describes this better than anyone in his Holy Sonnet XIV.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to'another due,
Labor to'admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me,'untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

(photo by Mark Maclean under Creative Commons)