By miracles exceeding power of man,
He faith in some, envy in some begat,
For, what weake spirits admire, ambitious hate:
In both affections many to him ran,
But Oh! the worst are most, they will and can,
Alas, and do, unto the immaculate,
Whose creature Fate is, now prescribe a Fate,
Measuring selfe-life's infinity to a span,
Nay to an inch. Loe, where condemned he
Bears his own cross, with pain, yet by and by
When it bears him, he must bear more and die;
Now thou art lifted up, draw me to thee,
And at thy death giving such liberal dole,
Moist, with one drop of thy blood, my dry soule.
There are a few observations I would like to make about this poem. First, it is interesting that Donne begins his sonnet by referring to "miracles exceeding power of man." Although Donne is no doubt referring to all of the many miracles performed by Jesus, the one that comes most immediately to my mind is the raising of Lazarus. Indeed, in the Gospel of John we are told that as a result of this miracle, some came to believe in Jesus ("...faith in some...begat"), but others (perhaps those afflicted with "envy") went to tell the Pharisees, the enemies of Jesus, leading to their plot against Him. Second, the sonnet contains a pun, which is typical of Donne's poetry, even his most serious poems. Specifically, there is a play on the word bear--in line 10, Donne uses bear to mean "carry"; at the beginning of line 11 it means "hold," while at the end of line 11 it seems to mean "tolerate." Third, the metaphor with which the sonnet ends ("Moist, with one drop of thy blood, my dry soule") seems to me quite original and striking.
To conclude, I hope that this poem will aid my readers in contemplating something of the enormity of what happened on this day, some two thousand years ago. May this be a meaningful Good Friday!
Image of John Donne (painting by Isaac Oliver) from Wikimedia Commons