Given to me this day Friday 5th April 2019, by God, after having read: The Prodigal Son Returning Home to his Father”: A Sermon (1684) by John Dunton

Get Me Wisdom


I might be nothing just rough pompous paper stuffing

Bumbaste they call it in the olden days of plays

“All wind and water” goes the format known as nowadays


I might hike pride that likes itself above all other praise

And walk about surly appointed, eyebrows to upraise

Looking as if I know things, have a judgement to appraise


Then I might gabble, bluster, poke a rapid don’t care phrase

And looking into a glass to compliment my prickly grace;

Shimmering in cocked hat for mitre; wrecking-ball for mace


Then there’s the lecheries at work, planned avarice within

Coward assurance catechises me my ribald sin

Happy to pass slips over, set them by with smirky grin


Contented, no, complacent, that even casual compromise

Might cover over comfortably and intersperse my lies

Seeing them still stood grossly full reflections in my eyes


I have a rabbit warren circles; it contrives

A race I run through, gumshoe, with an intellectual ease

Hiding among the backwoods I don’t see the hanging trees


Branched multiplying diversely here betake new catacombs;

Nor steady station-stop where condescends God’s only Son

Jesus himself unfolding there, his wealth working among


Which wonders bending knee, I do acknowledge honest homage

Asking him, please have mercy please, repair this guilty damage

Just let me see Thee Lord again, and my defections manage


Towards all bliss; that wild election makes such reckless fists

Preventing me, refrains my conscience; give me a life apart

In the blessing of your Countenance; so break my contrite heart

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