More from Donne: On God and Man
I think I might try to post something every day from John Donne — both his prose and his poetry make for outstanding Lenten reading.
David professes himself dead dog to his king Saul, and so doth Mephibosheth to his king David, and yet David speaks to Saul, and Mephibosheth to David. No man is so little, in respect of the greatest man, as the greatest in respect of God; for here, in that, we have not so much as a measure to try it by; proportion is no measure for infinity. He that hath no more of this world but a grave; he that hath his grave but lent him till a better man or another man must be buried in the same grave; he that hath no grave but a dunghill, he that hath no more earth but that which he carries, but that which he is, he that hath not that earth which he is, but even in that is another’s slave, hath as much proportion to God, as if all David’s worthies, and all the world’s monarchs, and all imagination’s giants, were kneaded and incorporated into one, and as though that one were the survivor of all the sons of men, to whom God had given the world. And therefore how little soever I be, as God calls things that are not, as though they were, I, who am as though I were not, may call upon God.