English poem
Holy Sonnet VIII: If Faithful Souls Be Alike Glorified
by John Donne
If faithful souls be alike glorified As angels, then my fathers soul doth see, And adds this even to full felicity, That valiantly I hells wide mouth o'erstride: But if our minds to these souls be descried By circumstances, and by signs that be Apparent in us, not immediately, How shall my mind's white truth by them be tried? They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn, And vile blasphemous conjurers to call On Jesus name, and Pharisaical Dissemblers feigne devotion. Then turn, O pensive soul, to God, for he knows best Thy true grief, for he put it in my breast.
More by John Donne
- Holy Sonnet IX: If Poisonous Minerals, And If That Tree
- Holy Sonnet V: I Am A Little World Made Cunningly
- Holy Sonnet VI: This Is My Play's Last Scene, Here Heavens Appoint
- Holy Sonnet VII: At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners Blow
- Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud
- Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side
- Holy Sonnet XII: Why Are We By All Creatures Waited On?
- Holy Sonnet XIII: What If This Present Were The World's Last Night?