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Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord, If I Contend

Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si disputem tecum:
verumtamen justa loquar ad te:
Quare via impiorum prosperatur? &c.


Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend
With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just.
Why do sinners' ways prosper? and why must
Disappointment all I endeavour end?

 Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,
How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost
Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust
Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,
Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
Now leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
Them; birds build — but not I build; no, but strain,
Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.

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Comments

  • cafegroundzero
    March 25, 2007

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    There is a spirituality here rarely found in modern poetry

    I think there's some background we could use to better understand this poem. Here's a link to an illuminating critical essay:

    http://everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=1460569&lastnode_id=0


    One can see how G.M.H.'s celibacy and spiritual growth would have influenced his verse. I say, give it a chance, hellizacomin and others who might not find they relate to the topic of one's struggle with the passions. Think of this not as a poet by a priest, but for what it describes.

    I liked the verses:

    "Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
    Now leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again
    With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
    Then; birds build - but not I build; no, but strain,"

    I enjoyed the alliteration in the verse.

    If one is curious to know what a priest feels, this is worth reading. I think there is something to be learned from reading verse from people who are different than we.

  • Eusebius
    April 14, 2006
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    Great!

    This is wonderfully lyrical and cogent!

  • hellizacomin
    December 3, 2004
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    This is utterly depressing; I think I would maybe like it, or relate to it more, if I were a priest or a nun, keyword is maybe. It is just so grim and sterile, especially the last two lines, i.e., "Times eunich,...send my roots rain." Peace