Thursday 11 June 2015

A sonnet or 'sound rhyme' by Thomas Kingo

Sonnet or Sound Rhyme

It is ordained that all things shall comply completely
With those who fear God’s name, the orbit of the world
And fortune’s centre-point, around which it is whirled,
Shall bow – if God sees fit – down to their hand if need be:
The world’s a workshop though for heaven’s fortune-things,
With many twists and turns and with the strangest swings
That to the flesh’s purblind eye seem made to measure,
Yet to a noble soul can give such wondrous pleasure,
Since it God’s heav’nly hand in all things can discern,
No matter where the wind of fortune seeks to turn,
It still makes out its God at every compass point,
And fortune’s frail glass never puts it out of joint:
However harsh and searing fate might seem to be,
God makes all things that are, and does so perfectly.

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