By John Donne
Salute the last, and everlasting day,
Joy at the uprising of this
Sunne, and
Sonne,
Ye whose just
tears, or
tribulation
Have purely washed, or burnt your drossy clay;
Behold the
Highest, parting hence away,
Lightens the dark
clouds, which he treads upon,
Nor doth he by ascending, show alone,
But first he, and he first enters the way.
O strong
Ram which hast battered
heaven for me,
Mild
lamb, which with thy blood, hadt marked the path;
Bright
Torch, which shin'st, that I the way may see,
Oh, with thy own
blood quench thy own just
wrath.
And if the
holy Spirit, my
Muse did raise,
Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise.
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