Pentecost

The Holy Ghost

O Holy Ghost, whose temple I

Am, but of mud walls and condensed dust,

And being sacrilegiously

Half wasted with youth’s fires, of pride and lust

Must with new storms be weather-beat;

Double in my heart Thy flame,

Which let devout sad tears intend; and let

(Though this glass lanthorn*, flesh, do suffer maim)

Fire, Sacrifice, Priest, Altar be the same.

 

by John Donne

 

*lanthorn – an archaic word for lantern