faith for faith

The apostle Paul declares, “To live is Christ; to die is gain” (Php. 1:21). Regardless of where he is in life, the Christian is drenched in hope, and when he dies, his hope will be realized. Therefore, death for the Christian is the passage into eternal Delight in his Savior, and should not be something that is feared, but it should be something that is waited for with eager expectation, for, “If we have died with Christ [by baptism], we believe that we will also live with him” (Rm. 6:8). Therefore, today, I remember my Inheritance in a sonnet I composed some years ago:

Sonnet I

My belovéd Death! far too long have I
Been unfaithful to thee, giving Diblaim’s bed
To blind Desire and feigned Hope in thy stead.
Yet, how could I’ve known thee, hid ‘hind the lie
Of dye-drenched grayed hair and suppresséd sigh?
Seeing thee a foreign tyrant, I fled
From thy distance-blurred image to wed
One less loving to escape thy ill-bye.
I was deceived! Thou art not ill, indeed
Thou art the balm for my indifferent heart!
Come nigh to me (not too close!) and impart
The power thou gavest Keats in his age.
Breathe into me, sweet Death! cause me to bleed,
Fix my gaze past thee, my might never assuage.

I am no so well today (due to a bad first experience cooking a turkey), so I will not be writing a post today, but I do have a good one planned for tomorrow, Lord willing of course. In the mean time, feel free to enjoy some John Donne with me.

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,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved 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 (John Donne, Holy Sonnet XIV).

For those who find these things interesting, I am showing my first published draft of Sonnet II by its present draft. It is something to fill the Thanksgiving Day blog post void. Criticism is always welcome.

Present Draft:

Away went Earth’s once White & vestal forms—
Defiled—ravished when Sin’s First Seed was sown;
And now, through Pangs She strains—through wars & storms,
Awaiting Him whose Kin bear Hope, She groans;

Not Her alone, but we the Sons of God,
Whose father’s Seed steeps our marrow & bones;
In Christ, we taste Rest on this war-torn Sod,
We taste but faintly, and with Her we groan;

Although in us we find the Spirit’s hand,
We pray not the Objectives of the Throne,
Nor for the Paths of Love the Father’s planned;
Thus for Harmony Divine, the Spirit groans;

Our Good, we know, is our Father’s delight,
And patiently wait till Faith yields to Sight.

~Romans 8:19-28

First Published Draft:

Away went Her once White & blushing forms–
Defiled; ravished when Sin’s First Seed was sown;
And now, through Pangs She strains–through wars & storms,
Awaiting Him whose Sons bear Hope, She groans;

Not Her alone, but we the Sons of God,
Whose father’s Seed steeps our marrow & bone,
In Christ, we taste Rest on this hostile Sod,
We taste here blindly, and with Her we groan;

And though in us we find the Spirit’s hand,
We pray not the Intentions of the Throne,
Nor the Paths of Love our Father has planned;
For our Divine Harmony, the Spirit groans;

We know our Good is the Father’s delight,
And patiently wait till Faith yields to Sight.

~Romans 8:19-28