Traherne: Four Early Modern Poets on Repentance, Lent 2024

Welcome to this year's Old Books with Grace Lent Series. This year's series is on penitential poetry. That is, on poems of the past that reflect on one’s sin, on need, on lament, on making things right, on conversion and satisfaction. Such poetry is part of an ancient tradition, dating back to the Psalms themselves. Today's poem is "Desire," by Thomas Traherne. You can read along below, or listen as I read: For giving me Desire, An Eager Thirst, a burning Ardent fire, A virgin Infant Flame, A Love with which into the World I came, An Inward Hidden Heavenly Love, Which in my Soul did Work and move, And ever ever me Enflame, With restlesse longing Heavenly Avarice, That could never be satisfied, That did incessantly a Paradice Unknown suggest, and som thing undescried Discern, and bear me to it; be Thy Name for ever praisd by me.   My Parchd and Witherd Bones Burnt up did seem: My Soul was full of Groans: My Thoughts Extensions were: Like Paces Reaches Steps they did appear: They somwhat hotly did persue, Knew that they had not all their due; Nor ever quiet were: But made my flesh like Hungry Thirsty Ground, My Heart a deep profound Abyss, And evry Joy and Pleasure but a Wound, So long as I my Blessedness did miss. O Happiness! A Famine burns, And all my Life to Anguish turns!   Where are the Silent Streams, The Living Waters, and the Glorious Beams, The Sweet Reviving Bowers, The Sadby Groves, the Sweet and Curious Flowers, The Springs and Trees, the Heavenly Days, The Flowry Meads, the Glorious Rayes, The Gold and Silver Towers? Alass, all these are poor and Empty Things, Trees Waters Days and Shining Beams Fruits, Flowers, Bowers, Shady Groves and Springs, No Joy will yeeld, no more then Silent Streams. These are but Dead Material Toys And cannot make my Heavenly Joys.   O Love! ye Amities, And Friendships, that appear abov the Skies! Ye Feasts, and Living Pleasures! Ye Senses, Honors, and Imperial Treasures! Ye Bridal Joys! Ye High Delights; That satisfy all Appetites! Ye Sweet Affections, and Ye High Respects! What ever Joys there be In Triumphs, Whatsoever stand In Amicable Sweet Societie Whatever pleasures are at his right Hand Ye must, before I am Divine, In full Proprietie be mine.   This Soaring Sacred Thirst, Ambassador of Bliss, approached first, Making a Place in me, That made me apt to Prize, and Taste, and See, For not the Objects, but the sence Of Things, doth Bliss to Souls dispence, And make it Lord like Thee. Sence, feeling, Taste, Complacency and Sight, These are the true and real Joys, The Living Flowing Inward Melting, Bright And Heavenly Pleasures; all the rest are Toys: All which are founded in Desire, As Light in Flame, and Heat in fire.