Showing posts with label Poetria. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetria. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

The Proclamation of Mortal Man



I am weary, O God.1
I am weary, O God, but I can persevere.
Indeed, I am too dull of a man to discern.
For I have reached my limit and I don't even have the understanding of Adam.
I have not yet learned wisdom, but I know it can be attained.

Who on earth has gone up to you to bring wisdom down to us?
Who has walked the recesses of the deep?
Who has comprehended every detail of land?
Who has entered the storehouses of snow and hail?
What is his name, and what is his son's name?
Surely You know!

Our lives are filled with various trials and dangers.
And so You say, "Take refuge in Me."
Even if we don't consider every word of Yours to be true.
Even if You rebuke us when we add words to the invitation.
Every word proves true.
Our lies are found out.

Oh God, please consider helping me by granting two things before I die. 
I need deliverance from my most basic temptations--those of falsehood and lying. 
If I only had daily bread, the bread sufficient for each day.
I wouldn't be tempted to suppress You or transgress Your law in times of poverty or wealth.

I wouldn't be tempted to slander your servants to their employers. 
I have done that before, and ultimately to my shame.
Every generation seems to act shamefully as I have.
There is cursing of fathers and mothers.
There is hypocrisy in how they view others while not seeing their own filth.
There is great audacity and condemnation in their eyes.
There is a relentless disregard for even the poorest of souls.
As long as that is what it takes to remain wise in their own eyes,
They're like the blood sucking leech and their spawn, crying out, "Give! Give!"

I ponder this vast domain of Yours, and the way they strive for satisfaction without You.
They're insatiable, like the grave or the womb which can't even produce life.
They're like parched land or an entire valley on fire.
Their eyes lead them into shameful desolation.
They could look for the wisdom from above, but they won't.
This mortal existence, and all its wisdom down here, is the only viewing they take pleasure in.

Many more things astonish me, and I don't understand how they can continue living as they do.
They rationalize their adulteries away, as though they have done no wrong.
They feast on violence and then wipe the blood off their lips, leaving no trail behind.
Like an eagle in the sky, or a snake slithering across a rock.
Like a ship in the heart of the ocean, or the way of a successful man with an impressionable woman.

The whole land trembles over such disordered desires.
The weight of it all cannot be sustained forever.
Consider the slave who finally becomes Emperor.
Or the senseless fool, filled with food at the celebration of his coronation. 
Or the servant-girl who, somehow, some way, displaces her Queen.
Or the lady whom we all thought would never get married because of how insufferable she often is.
Do you think she will magically change overnight in her wisdom once she receives a husband?

Even many frail animals serve as lessons of wisdom for us mortals.
The ants prepare for bad times during good times.
The rock badgers provide security for each other.
The locusts cooperate together. 
The geckos are defenseless, but they live in well-fortified palaces.

There is also a proper grandeur which God has given to His creation.
The lion, mightiest of beasts, retreats before nothing.
The rooster walks bravely among female hens.
The hunting-dog is another, as well as the king whose army is with him.
As long as mortals remain wise in their own eyes, foolishly exalting themselves above others,
Instead of being exalted by others,
We can only hope that they cover their mouths while talking.
Raging against others will only provoke further strife, of which we have plenty already.

Rules and prescriptions alone are not able to fix the brokenness all around us.2 
Libraries of law won't suffice for the healing of generations either.
Only the wisdom from above can come down and save us.
The wisdom from below is earthly, unspiritual, and demonic.
If any of us lacks wisdom from above, ask God for it.
He gives generously to all those who do so, and without rebuke or disapproval.
But be sure to ask in loyal trust of the One you're asking,
With no doubting about what you receive as being from the Lord.
If you remain double-minded in your loyalty, don't presume that you'll receive anything from Him.
Let the lowly brother boast in being exalted by Him.
And the rich brother boast in being humbled by Him.
Because like a flower of the field, each will pass away.










1. The inspiration for this comes directly from my reflections upon the Book of Proverbs, chapter 30, and the Book of Wisdom, chapter 2.
2. The inspiration for this comes from the book of James.






Friendship Friendship


Drop in your dollar fifty
The game is the same every day
The scorpion plays with smoke
The reptile with rain
One of them must lose
None must show friendship
As long as you're invested
There is no option of stalemate
Many just enjoy ripping spines out
But the wisdom from below doesn't always satisfy
Some need alternatives to fatality
There must be a way to tap into that above
Some combination of buttons and joystick
Some magazine wrapped in plastic
Some compact disc taped to the last page
What has the Programmer left us to discover?
Such is the riddling in search of friendship
Be not wise in your own eyes, is the clue








Monday, December 11, 2017

Talking Past



What can be said to the sycophant?
He welcomes you into his abode for a friendly discussion
Offers kindness and sincerity
Chatters about all the good done in their name

What can be said to the facile?
He shows concern for the neighbor's pet
Cares about the widow and orphan too
Hates the God who kills and makes alive

What can be said to the pedant?
He ascends to the right hand of his father only to mock his face
Slays the younger brother just because he can
Justifies infanticide on his own terms, while mocking the God who passes over the innocent

What can be said to the Atheist?
He reasons like a fundamentalist
Wages war with imaginary gods
He eats and wipes his mouth and says, 'I have done no wrong.'

What can be said to the Christian?
He made this mess, but wants others to clean it up
Prescribes drugs to all patients, not even knowing each person or side effect
Immunizes every infant in their care to prevent disease from spreading


Sunday, November 26, 2017

Lucy



Of course I believe it's true
Why? 
Don't you?

Of course not
Only an idiot could believe that
Frogs don't become princes you know
Never in a million years could all that be possible
Archeologists all agree
Every biology textbook is clear
Just ask your friendly neighborhood geologist
They'll tell you
Frogs don't become princes
Never in a million years

But what about The Book?

What about it?

It's His. And He says it's true.

No, it doesn't say that. And it's not "His".

Yes. It is.

No, it is most certainly not "His"
You've been brainwashed to think that
Religious people invented the "Book"
They chose it to suit their imaginary theodicy
They just wanted to overpower the weak and vulnerable
It's all a power struggle, that's all
That Book is just like every other book on earth: humanly crafted
You can't magically turn a human book into a Divine One
No matter what you call it
Frogs don't become princes
Not even in a billion years

But what about all the devout worshipers across the globe?
And all the miracles from above?
And all the apparitions? 
And all the answered prayers?
Do you think they all believe in fairy tales?

Unfortunately, yes
But cheer up
Not everything is gloomy just because that One turned out to be a joke
We humans still get to craft our own destiny
For a long time there has been hope dawning at the end of another tunnel
The tides have turned considerably since those ancient myths of His became facts
The four rivers flow westward now, to where our seeds were planted and nurtured a century ago
All the trimming and grooming over here is finished
Faithful groundskeeping is all that's needed now
The trees are fully grown and bearing fruit each year
Pleasant to the sight of all, and good for food
Some now even say that its fruit is able to make one wise
The Mythicists even crafted a clever little ditty in that regard:
'Rejoice all ye lands and do not look grim
With oodles of time on our side
And laws of Nature to guide
Myriads of self-purposed mutations later
And with only One common ancestor
Frogs actually did become princes and without any need for Him'
Despite tiny inconsistencies here and there
We no longer feel the need to challenge those who guard and keep our garden
Such ditties are kind of charming, actually
And it rhymes*




*Jon Sedlak, 11/26/17







Friday, November 24, 2017

Drugs of Choice




Why should You be worshiped?
You see them boxed in, lonely and terrified, tormented and gasping, yet You do nothing about it
The rape behind the curtain
The brain swelling in the infant
The Omnipresent One prefers to dine while watching the film It made
We foolishly accept Your distractions to placate the wrath of your disciples
Butter, brewer's yeast, and sea salt are the drugs of choice

The Omnipotent One just stares into the cold, dark night
You--the Holy One--You can command legions to come to your own aid at any moment
Yet not to theirs?
If I should worship You, then make me believe
I'll give You forty minutes to respond favorably
Yes, I would like some salt
No, I brought my own sweets, and I don't particularly care if I'm not supposed to tell You that

Forty-one minutes later...

What kind of a pathetic Deity would pass up such a sublime opportunity?
Even if You did exist, I wouldn't prostrate myself before You
Where were You when I needed You most, anyway?
It's like this every day--the same torturous imaginary bullshit every day
You're the one who invented torture, aren't You?
You do all of this just because You can
Or, maybe, it's because You can't

Is that it?
You think You're the greatest, but You're really just a poser, like the Devil
Or maybe You are the Devil
Can You even hear me?
I said that's what You are--the Devil
I am the real God of me
And to prove it, I'm going to live my life without You, meanwhile letting everyone know my reasons for becoming an Atheist

I will spend my life promoting Science
The true source of our knowledge--at least, what we can know, anyway
And I will make peace with Your ridiculous devotees by calling myself an Agnostic
I will study the book You dropped out of heaven, and Your disciples will learn how hopelessly inept they are as long as they cling to You while listening to Me
Instead of being brainwashed by Your "good" and Your evil, they will learn to focus upon the truth
Their only moral obligation will be to follow that truth wherever it leads
If it leads some sick poodles back to You, we will show mercy, as long as they are merciful
But with the froward we will show ourselves froward

That is the best scientific means to keep the peace
In due time--hopefully not another billion years--the good news will be settled
And Our kingdom established
The most important task at hand now is to quell Your soldiers and set Your captives free
Free to do whatever they want within the limits of Our gospel
Free to be like You
For Science knows of no boundaries other than the ones Our peers review*






*Jon Sedlak, 11/24/17











Between Two Worlds

In the beginning was no end
Days, hours, minutes are there, so we are told
But there is no end
Like a crushed record
Shattered into pieces
We found her by his side from the very beginning, with no end in sight
Five pillars supported her stars
Ten words made us, but they weren’t good enough
Seventy bullocks and seven generations later we started getting it right
At least we thought we did
Pour the chalice over and onto us if you must
Let the dust soak it all in to form your new mud puppet to play with
We’ve all been waiting for this day
Raise the war-bow to remember no more so that Hosea’s children will be justified
Do not spare us just this once
Let the waters above crack open and shed down hailstones
Light our vigil candles below 
Prepare new globes of fire within the firmament
If we must have our cadavers back, then just say a word and our soul shall be healed
Form our glass with your lightning and scatter the ten thunderings across the sea shore one last time
Leave broken what is broken, shells and all
Ditch the glue and fill the week with one more evening—just one—and we will become wise*






*Jon Sedlak, 11/24/17






Knowing God



We all pretend to know but we really don’t
We certainly can know but we won’t
Our careers depend upon imagineering 
Our friendships demand it
Our identity is it
So let’s think for ourselves as we watch them lounge to the Netflix of dogma and genuflect to the magisterial bestsellers that kindle fire
We know it’s not true that we don’t know anything, otherwise why tweet?
Admittedly we don’t know everything, but that’s what democracy is for
She knows there is a difference between knowing and pretending, but she doesn’t know the principle is the same

We are told that in dying we shall die if we count equality with God a thing to be grasped
Isn’t this contrary to everything we know?
Where was God in the tsunami?
God is perfectly good, she says
He is omnipotently, omnisciently, omnipresently good
Even if God is good, isn’t it obvious that the way she portrays him isn’t?
We know the winds do not actually obey his words, otherwise God would be the author of tsunamis
We know that God must return in the flesh again to make the wind obey his word, making all things good again
His feet must touch the mount before he can be our judge, our lawgiver, and our king
Only then will every one of us know, and bow to his omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotence 

She knows this world is not yet as it is in heaven
We certainly know what heaven is not like
It’s not like earth where we are like gods
We don’t even need test scores to know that she pretends
Total depravity only makes matters worse
They say that if any man—save Jesus—or any woman—especially Mary—could live sinlessly, even by God’s grace, they know they could qualify as the Messiah and steal the glory due to His omnipotent name alone
Don't they know God is dead?
We know this is heresy
She knows it too, and they still believe that empire of truth in which every Adam lives
We, however, are under grace, not law

Sometimes she even pretends to be pretending, so that even when we know that she doesn't know a thing, she doesn’t want others to know that we know that she doesn’t actually know
For if she didn’t at least know with boldness and confidence, how could she help all those around us with so much uncertainty?
She must pluck the firebrands out of the fire, and then they too will know
It is heresy for her to be wrong
When she repents—if ever that happens—that will be a sure sign of her total depravity
‘She always was the harlot,’ will be our refrain
They know that the only incarnate thing in life—at least the one that is without stain—is the good book, as long as the Apocrypha is not considered
Even the Creed knows this much; ’We Believe’ is our standard for perfect unity
Just don’t tell that to the Council of Chalcedon, or the iconoclasts, or Monothelites
Rethink one jot or tittle of the law or the prophets, and no more Jesus for you; no more bread and wine from her

She knows that one cannot be known if one doesn’t confess that Jesus is an impotent monarch, enthroned in the heavens, awaiting that final trumpet blast
That’s when he, too, will know it is time to finally come in glory to judge the living and the dead
Hell is for those who don’t know what she knows, and she knows that not even Jesus still knows the day or the hour
Don’t pretend you don’t know about the parenthesis of His plan
Don’t pretend that the signs aren't everywhere
Don’t pretend that we won’t get this flesh back 
We know that is gnosticism, so away with the Atheists
Away with those who pretend to know that the end was really the beginning
Away with those who say, along with Hymenaeus and Philetus, that the resurrection is past
Away with those who reduce history to a guess
*






*Jon Sedlak 9/20/17


Thursday, November 16, 2017

Reaching God






Eyes open and no thoughts about it 
It sees me
It knows me
Eat the fruit and you will know
Plan A was life 
And plan B was life too
Drink the cup and you will know it
Draw near to it
Neither supra nor infra can change it
That's what Nietzche said lawyers are for
Fire and hail, snow and ice, tempestuous winds make life worth living
Just stub your toe and that all changes
Dust was plan A
And there never was a plan B
Procreation seems so cruel
Without eating the fruit
Who would know?
The grass withers
The flower fades 
And we know it
We beget and more is known 
And they know it too
Clement said that jealousy and strife have overthrown great cities and uprooted great nations
How blessed and marvelous are the gifts of God
Eyelids close to think about it
The tree is me 
The tree is you 1










This is a poem I wrote on 9/08/17, shortly after being exposed to the amazing poetry of Anne Sexton.







Wednesday, December 17, 2014

After Vain Pretence



When the grape of the night is pressed
Nearly dry, and the trains rest
And roads are empty and the moon low,
Out of my body's breast I go,
Insecure, as a child escaped,
Animula flittering in the night unshaped;
Lacking wings; but I leap so high
It wants but a little more to fly.
Down I swoop with a seven-league stride
From church's spire to river side,
There scarce touching the ground, and then
Up to the elm-tree tops again;
Rising higher each leap and still
Sinking lower again, until
Lured to venture at least too much
I dream of flying indeed--no touch
Of earth between; then, holding breath
I poise on a perilous edge. But faith
All goes out of my soul--too late!
Air is emptiness: man has weight.
Unsupported I drop like lead
To where my body awakes in bed
Screaming-scared--and yet glad, as one
Who, after vain pretence, has done
with keeping company too great 
For his lean purse and low estate.

- C.S. Lewis





Friday, November 29, 2013

The flame of Yah





Out of all the laws of God, the Law's requirement to love is most radical. Love embraces the impoverished, widow, fatherless, and orphans. Love cares for the downtrodden, helpless, destitute, and oppressed. Love supports the weak, encourages the disadvantaged, and protects the vulnerable. 
Love is more willing to give than we are to receive. Love is also not blind. Loves sees sin and covers its multitude. Love sees frailty and brokenness but then strives to piece it back together. Loves see idolatry and removes its high places. Love sees darkness and dispels it with light. Love doesn't just live until death parts it. Love conquers through death, for love is as strong as death, and it's jealousy as unrelenting as Sheol. Its flames are flashes of fire, the very flame of Yahweh, fueled from above by the baptism of spirit and water; fed down below at a table of bread and wine.

Monday, April 29, 2013

Dialog in Heaven



Below is one of my favorite scenes from Milton’s Paradise Lost.  It’s known as the “dialog in Heaven.” It comes from book 3, almost immediately after the first two books expound a major dialog in Hell between Satan and other demons who were cast there as punishment for their rebellion after their defeat in battle against Almighty God. Just before this dialog in Heaven begins, Satan and the other demons agree to exact revenge upon God by finding a way to entice Adam and Eve to rebel against God as well, and Satan freely offers to lead that rebellion. Satan then embarks on a cosmic voyage from Hell to Earth in order to exact his revenge.

In the heavenly dialog which follows, there are five distinctive sections. First, the narrator speaks, introducing the Heavenly Council in a glorious manner. Second, the Almighty Father speaks to His Son, followed by the narrator again. Third, the Only Begotten Son speaks in return to His Father, followed by a brief comment of the narrator again. Fourth, the Father replies to His Son, followed by an expression of silence among the angelic hosts (for the Father asks who, in all of heaven, would love mortal man and Divine justice enough to become moral themselves and satisfy man’s mortal crime with redeeming death). 

Last of all, the Son speaks in response to the Father, offering Himself as the redemption of the human race. Below is Milton’s sketch of that epic dialog in Heaven:

Now had the Almighty Father from above,
From the pure Empyrean where he sits
High Thron'd above all highth, bent down his eye,
His own works and their works at once to view:
About him all the Sanctities of Heaven
Stood thick as Starrs, and from his sight receiv'd
Beatitude past utterance; on his right
The radiant image of his Glory sat,
His onely Son; On Earth he first beheld
Our two first Parents, yet the onely two
Of mankind, in the happie Garden plac't,
Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love,
Uninterrupted joy, unrivald love
In blissful solitude; he then survey'd
Hell and the Gulf between, and Satan there
Coasting the wall of Heav'n on this side Night
In the dun Air sublime, and ready now
To stoop with wearied wings, and willing feet
On the bare outside of this World, that seem'd
Firm land imbosom'd without Firmament,
Uncertain which, in Ocean or in Air.
Him God beholding from his prospect high,
Wherein past, present, future he beholds,
Thus to his onely Son foreseeing spake:

Onely begotten Son, seest thou what rage
Transports our adversarie, whom no bounds
Prescrib'd, no barrs of Hell, nor all the chains
Heapt on him there, nor yet the main Abyss
Wide interrupt can hold; so bent he seems
On desparate reveng, that shall redound
Upon his own rebellious head. And now
Through all restraint broke loose he wings his way
Not farr off Heav'n, in the Precincts of light,
Directly towards the new created World,
And Man there plac't, with purpose to assay
If him by force he can destroy, or worse,
By some false guile pervert; and shall pervert
For man will heark'n to his glozing lyes,
And easily transgress the sole Command,
Sole pledge of his obedience: So will fall,
Hee and his faithless Progenie: whose fault?
Whose but his own? ingrate, he had of mee
All he could have; I made him just and right,
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
Such I created all th' Ethereal Powers
And Spirits, both them who stood and them who faild;
Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.
Not free, what proof could they have givn sincere
Of true allegiance, constant Faith or Love,
Where onely what they needs must do, appeard,
Not what they would? what praise could they receive?
What pleasure I from such obedience paid,
When Will and Reason (Reason also is choice)
Useless and vain, of freedom both despoild,
Made passive both, had servd necessitie,
Not mee. They therefore as to right belongd,
So were created, nor can justly accuse
Thir maker, or thir making, or thir Fate,
As if predestination over-rul'd
Thir will, dispos'd by absolute Decree
Or high foreknowledge; they themselves decreed
Thir own revolt, not I: if I foreknew,
Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault,
Which had no less prov'd certain unforeknown.
So without least impulse or shadow of Fate,
Or aught by me immutablie foreseen,
They trespass, Authors to themselves in all
Both what they judge and what they choose; for so
I formd them free, and free they must remain,
Till they enthrall themselves: I else must change
Thir nature, and revoke the high Decree
Unchangeable, Eternal, which ordain'd
Thir freedom, they themselves ordain'd thir fall.
The first sort by thir own suggestion fell,
Self-tempted, self-deprav'd: Man falls deceiv'd
By the other first: Man therefore shall find grace,
The other none: in Mercy and Justice both,
Through Heav'n and Earth, so shall my glorie excel,
But Mercy first and last shall brightest shine.

Thus while God spake, ambrosial fragrance fill'd
All Heav'n, and in the blessed Spirits elect
Sense of new joy ineffable diffus'd:
Beyond compare the Son of God was seen
Most glorious, in him all his Father shon
Substantially express'd, and in his face
Divine compassion visibly appeerd,
Love without end, and without measure Grace,
Which uttering thus he to his Father spake:

O Father, gracious was that word which clos'd
Thy sovran sentence, that Man should find grace;
For which both Heav'n and Earth shall high extoll
Thy praises, with th' innumerable sound
Of Hymns and sacred Songs, wherewith thy Throne
Encompass'd shall resound thee ever blest.
For should Man finally be lost, should Man
Thy creature late so lov'd, thy youngest Son
Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though joynd
With his own folly? that be from thee farr,
That farr be from thee, Father, who art Judg
Of all things made, and judgest onely right.
Or shall the Adversarie thus obtain
His end, and frustrate thine, shall he fulfill
His malice, and thy goodness bring to naught,
Or proud return though to his heavier doom,
Yet with revenge accomplish't and to Hell
Draw after him the whole Race of mankind,
By him corrupted? or wilt thou thy self
Abolish thy Creation, and unmake,
For him, what for thy glorie thou hast made?
So should thy goodness and thy greatness both
Be questiond and blaspheam'd without defence.

To whom the great Creatour thus reply'd:

O Son, in whom my Soul hath chief delight,
Son of my bosom, Son who art alone
My word, my wisdom, and effectual might,
All hast thou spok'n as my thoughts are, all
As my Eternal purpose hath decreed:
Man shall not quite be lost, but sav'd who will,
Yet not of will in him, but grace in me
Freely voutsaft; once more I will renew
His lapsed powers, though forfeit and enthrall'd
By sin to foul exorbitant desires;
Upheld by me, yet once more he shall stand
On even ground against his mortal foe,
By me upheld, that he may know how frail
His fall'n condition is, and to me ow
All his deliv'rance, and to none but me.
Some I have chosen of peculiar grace
Elect above the rest; so is my will:
The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warnd
Thir sinful state, and to appease betimes
Th' incensed Deitie while offerd grace
Invites; for I will cleer thir senses dark,
What may suffice, and soft'n stonie hearts
To pray, repent, and bring obedience due.
To Prayer, repentance, and obedience due,
Though but endevord with sincere intent,
Mine ear shall not be slow, mine eye not shut.
And I will place within them as a guide
My Umpire Conscience, whom if they will hear,
Light after light well us'd they shall attain,
And to the end persisting, safe arrive.
This my long sufferance and my day of grace
They who neglect and scorn, shall never taste;
But hard be hard'nd, blind be blinded more,
That they may stumble on, and deeper fall;
And none but such from mercy I exclude.
But yet all is not don; Man disobeying,
Disloyal breaks his fealtie, and sinns
Against the high Supremacie of Heav'n,
Affecting God-head, and so loosing all,
To expiate his Treason hath naught left,
But to destruction sacred and devote,
He with his whole posteritie must dye,
Dye hee or Justice must; unless for him
Som other able, and as willing, pay
The rigid satisfaction, death for death.
Say Heav'nly Powers, where shall we find such love,
Which of ye will be mortal to redeem
Mans mortal crime, and just th' unjust to save,
Dwels in all Heaven charitie so deare?

He ask'd, but all the Heav'nly Quire stood mute,
And silence was in Heav'n: on mans behalf
Patron or Intercessor none appeerd,
Much less that durst upon his own head draw
The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set.
And now without redemption all mankind
Must have bin lost, adjudg'd to Death and Hell
By doom severe, had not the Son of God,
In whom the fulness dwells of love divine,
His dearest mediation thus renewed:

Father, thy word is past, man shall find grace;
And shall grace not find means, that finds her way,
The speediest of thy winged messengers,
To visit all thy creatures, and to all
Comes unprevented, unimplor'd, unsought,
Happie for man, so coming; he her aide
Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost;
Attonement for himself or offering meet,
Indebted and undon, hath none to bring:
Behold mee then, mee for him, life for life
I offer, on mee let thine anger fall;
Account mee man; I for his sake will leave
Thy bosom, and this glorie next to thee
Freely put off, and for him lastly dye
Well pleas'd, on me let Death wreck all his rage;
Under his gloomie power I shall not long
Lie vanquisht; thou hast givn me to possess
Life in my self for ever, by thee I live,
Though now to Death I yield, and am his due
All that of me can die, yet that debt paid,
Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsom grave
His prey, nor suffer my unspotted Soule
For ever with corruption there to dwell;
But I shall rise Victorious, and subdue
My Vanquisher, spoild of his vanted spoile;
Death his deaths wound shall then receive, and stoop
Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarm'd.
I through the ample Air in Triumph high
Shall lead Hell Captive maugre Hell, and show
The powers of darkness bound. Thou at the sight
Pleas'd, out of Heaven shalt look down and smile,
While by thee rais'd I ruin all my Foes,
Death last, and with his Carcass glut the Grave:
Then with the multitude of my redeemd
Shall enter Heaven long absent, and returne,
Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloud
Of anger shall remain, but peace assur'd,
And reconcilement; wrauth shall be no more
Thenceforth, but in thy presence Joy entire.