temple

(Note: 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.)

TEMPLE

With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe,
Joseph turne back; see where your child doth sit,
Blowing, yea blowing out those sparks of wit,
Which himselfe on the Doctors did bestow;
The Word but lately could not speake, and loe
It sodenly speakes wonders, whence comes it,
That all which was, and all which should be writ,
A shallow seeming child, should deeply know?
His Godhead was not soule to his manhood,
Nor had time mellowed him to this ripenesse,
But as for one which hath a long taske, 'tis good,
With the Sunne to beginne his businesse,
He in his ages morning thus began
By miracles exceeding power of man.

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