Shamelessly literary ramblings

A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER.
by John Donne

I.
WILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.

II.
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallowed in a score?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.

III.
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ;
But swear by Thyself, that at my death Thy Son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore ;
And having done that, Thou hast done ;
I have no more.

I have a deep and abiding love for John Donne which will probably crop up repeatedly if I keep writing here. An intellectual trying to grasp incomprehensible truths, a pious man with a positive fascination with sex, a believer who often felt no faith whatsoever - the contradictions are delightfully puzzling and familiar. After four years of study and seven years of love, I forget how incomprehensible his language can be for modern readers.

Be glad I'm not posting an analysis of Satire #3 or Sonnet 14: "Batter My Heart, Three-Personed God;" that I as yet but seek to study this one song of Donne's.

Anyway, this poem can be paraphrased thus: "God, will you forgive me for being a sinful human? Will you forgive me for sinning perpetually? Will you forgive me for getting others to sin? Will you forgive me for falling into that sin I thought I never would fall into? Hey, there's more I can list! Will you forgive my doubts, too? If you'll swear that it's all good, we're good."

But I love the refrain, because it's part of Donne's perpetual punning. Ordinarily I loathe punning with the fire of a thousand suns, but Donne's so dang good at it. "When thou hast done, thou hast not Donne, for I have more."

It's speculated, however, that there's another pun in that poem. See, his beloved wife's maiden name was More. "When thou hast done, thou hast not Donne; for I have More." The last line of the poem is usually rendered "I fear no more", but I prefer this obscure alternate version - "I have no more" - because I suspect it's what was on Donne's mind. His wife died a few years before this poem was written, and it broke his heart and almost killed him. "And having done that, thou hast Donne; I have no More."

Long, vaguely comprehensible rambling? Yes. But it comes down to this: this poem is, for me, a potent reminder of all the things I cling to before God. "I have More." This is the same guy who shamelessly wrote "For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love..." and is famous for his mingling of the sacred and the sexual. It must have been very, very hard for him to remember God with his wife, and harder still to face Him having lost his wife. How many good things do I put before God? Shamelessly? Nakedly? Will he forgive the sin through which I run, and do run still, which I ought to deplore? And when will I learn to deplore it? (Donne was also the Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral; I suppose he was probably quicker on the deploring front than I.)

A fancy way of saying I've been prioritizing terribly lately. I've got to get on that tomorrow.