John Donne: Divine Poems, Sermons, Devotions and Prayers

by John Donne, John E. Booty

The most in-depth and scholarly panorama of Western spirituality ever attempted!In one series, the original writings of the universally acknowledged teachers of the Catholic, Protestant, Eastern Orthodox, Jewish, Islamic and Native American traditions have been critically selected, translated and introduced by internationally recognized scholars and spiritual leaders.

The texts are first-rate, and the introductions are informative and reliable. The books will be a welcome addition to the bookshelf of every literate religious persons". -- The Christian Century

Genres: Poetry, Religion

309 pages, Hardcover

First published December 31, 1990

About the author

John Donne was an English poet, preacher and a major representative of the metaphysical poets of the period. His works are notable for their realistic and sensual style and include sonnets, love poetry, religious poems, Latin translations, epigrams, elegies, songs, satires and sermons. His poetry is noted for its vibrancy of language and inventiveness of metaphor, especially as compared to that of his contemporaries.

Despite his great education and poetic talents, he lived in poverty for several years, relying heavily on wealthy friends. In 1615 he became an Anglican priest and, in 1621, was appointed the Dean of St Paul's Cathedral in London.

Reviews

[Sarah Yasin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Batter my heart!

[Greg · Rating 4 out of 5]

John Donne is one of the most influential poets and churchmen in the history of Christendom. A member of the Anglican church around the reign of King James I, Donne’s poetry is as formidable as his theology. He draws on wit and emotion, classicism and theology. In short, his poetry is a brilliant representation of the Renaissance in England. In his theology, “In comparing the word of God to a compass, Donne seems to have in mind not only the notion of circumsription and measure, but also the instrument used for describing circumferential figures. But God is also portrayed as the center of all circles, as well as a circle, which is endless: ‘Fixe upon God any where, and you shall finde him a Circle; He is with you now, when you fix upon him; He was with you before, for he brought you to this fixation; and he will be with you hereafter, for He is yesterday, and to day, and the same fore ever. (Potter and Simpson, 7:52)” (4)

Anthony Raspa pointed out that “Donne’s tripartite structure, for which we may mistakenly find a parallel in formal seventeenth-century methods of devotion, is original with him. He devised it because he needed such an argumentative structure to satisfy the dialectical cast of his mind.” He then states that “the purpose of the Devotions as forcing the readers to make use of their memories, thus proving the eternal and engaging the understanding in order to reach a ‘deep comprehension of spiritual things.’ This comprehension leads ‘to the exercise of the will for love.’ He concludes that Donne, using this method of probing inspiration (comprehension), and love, ‘fulfilled the criterion of Donne’s contemporary, Bishop Hall,’ who wrote: ‘Divine Meditation is nothing else but a bending of the mind upon some spiritual object, through divers forms of discourse, until our thoughts come to an issue.” (56) He is quite challenging.

His language has become famous. Readers will recognize the opening lines of Holy Sonnets #6
“Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.” (80)

Holy Sonnets #10 drips with feeling.
“Batter my heart, three person’d God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow mee,’and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to’another due,
Labour to’admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely’I love you,’and would be loved faine,
But am betroth’d unto your enemie:
Divorce mee,’untie, or breake that knot againe,
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you’enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.” (80)

In his essays and sermons, Donne applies his poetic gifts of language aptly. A great and moving example is from the end of “A Hymne to Christ, at the Authors last going into Germany”
“And to scape stormy dayes, I chuse an Everlasting night.” (104)

In his “Essay on Natural Reason” within “Christ the Light” Donne’s take on reason and faith captures the Renaissance spirit:
“Knowledge cannot save us, but we cannot be saved without knowledge; faith is not on this side knowledge but beyond it; we must necessarily come to knowledge first, though we must not stay at it when we are come thither. For a regenerate Christian being now a new creature hath also a new faculty of reason, and so believeth the mysteries of religion out of another reason then as a mere natural man he believed natural and moral things…So the common light of reason illumines us all; but one employs this light upon the searching of impertinent vanities, another by a better use of the same light finds out the mysteries of religion; and when heath found them, loves them, not for the light’s sake, but for the natural and true worth of the thing itself.” (125)

The “Conclusio” in “Christ the Light” represents a challenge:
“To end all, we have no warmth in ourselves, it is true, but Christ came even in winter: we have no light in ourselves; it is true, but he came even in the night. And now I appeal to your own consciences and I ask you all (not as a judge but as an assistant to your consciences and amicus curiae), whether any man have made as good use of this light as he might have done.” (135)

From the end of the “Meditation” at the start of “The first Alteration, the first Grudging, of the Sickness” comes a lament fit for Lamentations:
“O perplexed discomposition, O riddling distemper, O miserable condition of man!” (254)

From Devotion 17, “Now, This Bell Tolling Softly for Another, Says to Me: Thou Must Die” there are other great lines which have influenced many theologians in the years following Donne’s death.
“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.” (272)
“My God, my God, is this one of thy ways of drawing light out of darkness, to make him for whom this bell tolls, now in this dimness of his sight, to become a superintendent, an overseer, a bishop, to as many as hear his voice in this bell, and to give us a confirmation in this action? Is this one of thy ways, to raise strength out of weakness, to make him who cannot rise from this bed, nor stir in his bed, come home to me, and in this sound give me the strength of healthy and virogours instructions? O my God, my God, what thunder is not a well-tuned cymbal, what hoarseness, what harshness, is not a clear organ, if thou be pleased to set thy voice to it?” (272)

This volume is a fantastic source record of Donne’s prolific writing. The language is not modern, but it is wonderfully constructed. His theology also is not modern, but one can grasp the transition that it represents. This is truly a classic in every sense of the word.

[Whiskey Tango]

No man is an island. For whom the bell tolls. Death be not proud. John Donne’s most famous phrases come down to us as if from a pulpit, wearing the solemn dress of the meditations and devotions from which they spring. And although he was indeed a brilliant religious writer in both verse and prose, his reputation as the greatest of the seventeenth-century English Metaphysical poets rests as much on poems of a more earthly nature. Donne’s art, in the prose of his sermons on mortality and salvation as well as in his poetry, is one of construction as much as thought: He chooses his materials and fits them together in the same way a joiner builds a cabinet, creating objects that are strong, useful, enduring, beautiful. Unexpected speech rhythms give his lines a tension between relaxation and constraint that moves across the two extremes of his sensibility—sensual and religious—and defines a style wholly his own.