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A Hymne to Christ
par
John Donne
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In what torne ship soever I embarke That ship shall be my embleme of thy Arke; What sea soever swallow mee, that flood Shall be to mee an embleme of thy blood; Though thou with clouds of anger do disguise Thy face; yet through that maske I know those eyes Which, though they turne away sometimes They never will despise I sacrifice this Iland unto thee And all whom I lov'd there, and who lov'd mee; When I have put our seas twixt them and mee Put thou thy sea bеtwixt my sinnes and thee As the trees sap doth seeke thе root below In winter, in my winter now I goe Where none but thee, th'Eternall root Of true Love I may know Nor thou nor thy religion dost controule The amorousnesse of an harmonious Soule But thou would'st have that love thy selfe: As thou Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now Thou lov'st not, till from loving more, thou free My soule: Who ever gives, takes libertie: O, if thou car'st not whom I love Alas, thou lov'st not mee Seale then this bill of my Divorce to All On whom those fainter beames of love did fall; Marry those loves, which in youth scattered bee On Fame, Wit, Hopes (false mistresses) to thee Churches are best for Prayer, that have least light: To see God only, I goe out of sight: And to scape stormy dayes, I chuse An Everlasting night
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