Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
By John Donne (1573–1631)Four Sonnets: III. “At the round earth’s imagin’d corners blow”
| AT the round earth’s imagin’d corners blow | |
| Your trumpets, angels; and arise, arise | |
| From death, you numberless infinities | |
| Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go, | |
| All whom th’ flood did, and fire shall overthrow; | 5 |
| All whom war, death, age, ague’s tyrannies, | |
| Despair, law, chance, hath slain; and you whose eyes | |
| Shall behold God and never taste death’s woe. | |
| But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space; | |
| For if above all these my sins abound, | 10 |
| ’Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace | |
| When we are there. Here on this holy ground | |
| Teach me how to repent, for that’s as good | |
| As if Thou hadst sealed my pardon with Thy blood. | |