la corona

For this week leading up to and culminating with Christmas, I will be posting a series of seven sonnets by the metaphysical poet John Donne (1572-1631). In light of Behr's call to view the work of Christ holistically (click here for the post), I invite the reader to do just that, considering the progression and profound interrelatedness of the themes these sonnets treat as they weave through the life and work of Christ. The hope is that we might be again encouraged not to isolate, say, the incarnation of the Son of God, but view it in light of the entirety of God's beautiful plan of redemption through Jesus Christ, who was, and is, and is to come.

LA CORONA

Deigne at my hands this crowne of prayer and praise,
Weav'd in my low devout melancholie,
Thou which of good, hast, yea art treasury,
All changing unchang'd Antient of dayes;
But doe not, with a vile crowne of fraile bayes,
Reward my muses white sincerity,
But what thy thorny crowne gain'd, that give mee,
A crowne of Glory, which doth flower alwayes;
The ends crowne our workes, but thou crown'st our ends,
For, at our end begins our endlesse rest;
The first last end, now zealously possest,
With a strong sober thirst, my soul attends.
'Tis time that heart and voice be lifted high,
Salvation to all that will is nigh.

_______
References:
Hayward, John. (ed.). (1950). John Donne: A Selection of His Poetry. New York, NY: Penguin.