John Donne

Commemoration of Pandita Mary Ramabai, Translator of the Scriptures, 1922 A memory of yesterday's pleasures, a fear of read more

Commemoration of Pandita Mary Ramabai, Translator of the Scriptures, 1922 A memory of yesterday's pleasures, a fear of tomorrow's dangers, a straw under my knees, a noise in my ear, a light in my eye, an anything, a nothing, a fancy, a chimera in my brain, troubles me in my prayers.

Christ came... in a purpose, ... to manifest himself in the Christian Religion, to all the nations of the world; read more

Christ came... in a purpose, ... to manifest himself in the Christian Religion, to all the nations of the world; and therefore, says David, The Lord reigneth, let the Islands rejoice -- the Islands who by reason of their situation, provision, and trading have most means of conveying Christ Jesus over the world. He hath carried us up to heaven & set us at the right hand of God, & shall not we endeavour to carry him to those nations, who have not yet heard of his name? Shall we still brag that we have brought our clothes, and our hatchets, and our knives, and bread to this and this value and estimation amongst those poor ignorant Souls, and shall we never glory that we have brought the name, and Religion of Christ Jesus in estimation amongst them? Shall we stay till other nations have planted a false Christ among them? And then either continue in our sloth, or take more pains in rooting out a false Christ than would have planted the true?

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, read more

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms, can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die.

Feast of John and Charles Wesley, Priests, Poets, Teachers, 1791 & 1788 He was but a heathen that said, read more

Feast of John and Charles Wesley, Priests, Poets, Teachers, 1791 & 1788 He was but a heathen that said, If God love a man, He takes him young out of this world; and they were but heathens, that observed that custom. to put on mourning when their sons were born, and to feast and triumph when they died. But thus much may we learn from these heathens, that if the dead, and we, be not upon one floor, nor under one story, yet we are under one roof. We think not a friend lost, because he has gone into another room, nor because he has gone into another land: and into another world, no man has gone; for that Heaven, which God created, and this world, is all one world... I spend none of my faith, I exercise none of my hope, in this, that I shall have my dead raised to life again. This is the faith that sustains me, when I lose by the death of others, or when I suffer by living in misery myself: that the dead and we are now all in one Church, and at the resurrection, shall be all in one Choir.