John Donne

Feast of Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna, Martyr, c.155 We may search so far, and reason so long of faith read more

Feast of Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna, Martyr, c.155 We may search so far, and reason so long of faith and grace, as that we may lose not only them, but even our reason too, and sooner become mad than good. Not that we are bound to believe any thing against reason, that is, to believe, we know not why. It is but a slack opinion, it is not Belief, that is not grounded upon Reason. It is true, we have not a Demonstration; not such an Evidence as that one and two are three, to prove these to be Scriptures of God; God hath not proceeded in that manner, to drive our reason into a pound, and to force it by a peremptory necessity to accept these for Scriptures, for then, here had been no exercise of our Will, and our assent, if we could not have resisted.

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 Though natural men, who have induced secondary and figurative consideration, have found read more

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 Though natural men, who have induced secondary and figurative consideration, have found out this... emblematical use of sleep, that it should be a representation of death, God, who wrought and perfected his work, before Nature began, (for Nature was but his Apprentice, to learn in the first seven days, and now is his foreman, and works next under him) God, I say, intended sleep only for the refreshing of man by bodily rest, and not for a figure of death, for he intended not death itself then. But Man having induced death upon himself, God hath taken Man's Creature, death, into his hand, and mended it, and whereas it hath in itself a fearfull form and aspect, so that Man is afraid of his own Creature, God presents it to him, in a familiar, in an assiduous, in an agreeable and acceptable form, in sleep, that so when he awakes from sleep and says to himself, shall I be no otherwise when I am dead, than I was even now, when I was asleep, he may be ashamed of his waking dreams, and of his Melancholique fancying out a horrid and an affrightful figure of that death which is so like sleep. As then we need sleep to live out our threescore and ten years, so we need death, to live that life which we cannot out-live.

Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls. For, thus friends absent speak.

Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls. For, thus friends absent speak.

Concluding a short series on authenticity: Think thyself at that Tribunal, that judgment, now: Where thou shalt not read more

Concluding a short series on authenticity: Think thyself at that Tribunal, that judgment, now: Where thou shalt not only hear all thy sinful works, and words, and thoughts repeated, which thou thy self hadst utterly forgot, but thou shalt hear thy good works, thine alms, thy coming to Church, thy hearing of Sermons, given in evidence against thee, because they had hypocrisy mingled in them; yea, thou shalt find even thy repentance to condemn thee, because thou madest that but a door to a relapse.

Reason is our soul's left hand, Faith her right.

Reason is our soul's left hand, Faith her right.