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.