A poem written during the nascent days of The Reformation.
By Margaret of Valois, duchess of Alencon, France,
sister of King Francis I, a persecutor of The Reformers.
Is there a gulf of ill, so deep and wide
That can suffice but e’en a tenth to hide
Of my vile sins?
Well do I fell within me is the root,
Without are branch and foliage, flower and fruit.
My God, thou hast come down on earth to me, –
To me, although a naked worm I be.
Word Divine, Jesus the Salvator,
Only Son of the eternal Paer,
The first, the last; of all things renovator,
Bishop and king, and mighty triumphator,
From death by death our liberator.
By faith we’re made the sons of the Creator.
Though poor, and weak, and ignorant I be,
How rich, how strong, how wise I am in Thee!
In spirit noble, – but in nature slave;
Immortal I am, -tending to the grave;
Essence of heaven, – and yet of earthly birth;
God’s dwelling place, – and yet how little worth.