John Donne | Holy Sonnets | What If This Present Were The World’s Last Night?
What if this present were the world’s last night?
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
The picture of Christ crucified, and tell
Whether his countenance can thee affright.
Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light;
Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierced head fell;
And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,
Which pray’d forgiveness for his foes’ fierce spite ?
No, no; but as in my idolatry I said to all my profane mistresses,
Beauty of pity, foulness only is
A sign of rigour ; so I say to thee,
To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign’d;
This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.
John Donne | Holy Sonnets | What if this present were the world’s last night?
The poem confronts the possibility of the world’s last night, situating Donne in a moment of existential urgency. The question is not abstract but immediate: ‘What if this present were the world’s last night?’ Donne directs the soul inward, urging it to consider the image of Christ crucified and assess whether his suffering face inspires fear. The poem explores the contrast between divine justice and mercy, questioning whether judgment should be understood in terms of terror or compassion.
The first quatrain establishes the setting. Donne does not look to external signs but to the heart: ‘Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell, / The picture of Christ crucified.’ The phrase ‘where thou dost dwell’ suggests that the soul’s location is not separate from Christ’s suffering but intimately connected to it. The instruction to ‘mark’ implies contemplation, an inward examination. The final phrase, ‘and tell / Whether His countenance can thee affright,’ introduces the key question: does the crucified Christ inspire fear?
The second quatrain deepens the imagery of Christ’s suffering. ‘Tears in His eyes quench the amazing light’ presents a paradox: Christ’s divine radiance is softened by sorrow. The ‘amazing light’ suggests divine glory, yet it is veiled by ‘tears’—a sign of Christ’s compassion. This is reinforced by ‘Blood fills His frowns, which from His pierced head fell.’ The image is both one of suffering and overwhelming sacrifice. The next lines pose the central theological question: ‘And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell, / Which pray’d forgiveness for His foes’ fierce spite?’ The implied answer is no. The same voice that cried for mercy on behalf of His enemies is not one of condemnation but of salvation.
The third quatrain introduces a personal reflection. ‘No, no; but as in my idolatry / I said to all my profane mistresses, / Beauty of pity, foulness only is / A sign of rigour.’ Donne recalls a time when he equated outward beauty with mercy and ugliness with severity. This confession acknowledges a past error: Donne misunderstood appearances, attributing harshness to what was merely unattractive, and gentleness to what was appealing. This misjudgment is now recognized as flawed, providing a lens through which to re-examine Christ’s suffering. The crucifixion, which might appear terrifying, should not be confused with divine wrath.
The final couplet resolves the argument: ‘To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign’d; / This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.’ The contrast is clear: the damned are given monstrous appearances, but Christ’s suffering is ‘beauteous’ because it reflects divine pity rather than vengeance. The conclusion draws the poem’s meditation toward assurance—Christ’s suffering face does not condemn but redeems.
The poem unfolds as a theological reflection that moves from fear to trust. Donne begins with the assumption that judgment should be terrifying but arrives at the realization that divine justice, as embodied in Christ, is inseparable from mercy. The image of Christ crucified, rather than a symbol of wrath, is a reassurance of love. The poet’s recognition of his past misconceptions parallels the soul’s journey from misunderstanding to faith.
This poem is a meditation on gratitude and divine love, exploring relationship between human activity and God’s continuous care. George Herbert reflects on the gifts of life, sight, and the ability to engage in both labour and leisure, attributing them to God’s love. Yet, the central focus is the greater blessing of spiritual vision, symbolized by sight, which God withheld from himself—we may understand reference to Christ’s sacrifice—so that humanity might see its own paths and be redeemed [ … ]
On Tuesday, His Grace turns to the theme of Jesus’ hidden years. His Grace asks the students to consider questions concerning what really happened: ‘Who, for instance, was Joseph? Was he indeed a carpenter, or has Joseph’s true role in the society in which he lived been misconstrued and forgotten to us? Though it be a beautiful, simplifying image to grasp, which offers to us much that is of value in Catholic faith… ‘A wise elder, which carpenter could mean, or a great engineer, an architekton, which in the Greek does not mean carpenter. But carpenter in the Hebrew could mean a wise man…’ His Grace turns the pages of his Bible back and forth, as if to itemize the paucity of information. Then he says: ‘What I think I can say to you with confidence is that it is of profound significance that we simply don’t know what Jesus was doing for most of his earthly life. There are some very different possibilities. One idea cherished by the Church is that Jesus worked with his father Joseph as a carpenter. Another possibility is that Jesus lived and prayed and studied closely with John the Baptist. They were cousins, and very close, almost the same, in age. Luke’s Gospel tells us clearly that Jesus and John knew each other from within the womb before they were born. So there may have been something quite important happening there. You see, we don’t know – it is an impossible mystery to us – just how much Jesus had to learn. This is because, if Jesus knew everything, humanly speaking, even as a tiny baby, then how can we say he is fully human? We simply can’t probe too far into this mystery, but we can draw extraordinary truth and healing from this thought, which becomes of immense relevance in our own lives. Jesus came to know and to understand himself not merely as a son of God, but as God the Son, and so as self-identical with his Father. It is not an adoptive relationship. Jesus is God. Now so much is hidden here. But this is a great gift. If you think about it, how do we come to know that we are loved by God, that we have our relationship with God? What are we born with in here’ – his chest – ‘and what do we have to learn? This is to say, what is gifted to us by other Christians at our baptism? ‘Jesus must have studied, and experienced profound revelation about who and what he truly was, and, so it seems to be, these studies cannot have been confined to the Semitic world. But this is the important point: there is a hiddenness about all of this. No matter which schools and which sects our Lord might have encountered all these years, this to us is as a desert space. What this means is that we can enter into the hidden life of Jesus, and there we can discover our own being with God, our own sonship. Our own particular being loved by God can come to us, if we can enter within this great unknown – into this desert space, where we are loved by Jesus. I firmly believe that there may be a great Lenten mystery in this period of our Lord’s life.’ A Bishop’s Lenten Homily | Extracted From The Gospel According To Tomàs | Faith And Hope And Love And Sexuality | Part 1 A Bishop’s Lenten Homily | Extracted From The Gospel According To Tomàs | Faith And Hope And Love And Sexuality | Part 2 A Bishop’s Lenten Homily | Extracted From The Gospel According To Tomàs | Faith And Hope And Love And Sexuality | Part 3 A Bishop’s Lenten Homily | Extracted From The Gospel According To Tomàs | Faith And Hope And Love And Sexuality | Part 4 | King James Audio Bible | KJV A Bishop’s Lenten Homily | Extracted From The Gospel According To Tomàs | Faith And Hope And Love And Sexuality | Part 5 A Bishop’s Lenten Homily | Holy Week | Extracted From The Gospel According To Tomàs | Faith And Hope And Love And Sexuality | Part 6
Saint Gregory of Nyssa, of the great Cappadocian Fathers, offers a profound meditation on the beatific vision—the promise that the pure in heart shall see God. His homily explores not only the depth of this promise but the existential and theological tension between divine transcendence and human limitation. As a mystic and theologian, Gregory challenges us to move beyond despair at our weaknesses and embrace the hope made possible by grace [ … ]
