Father of heav'n and Him by whom
It, and us for it, and all else for us,
Thou mad'st and govern'd'st ever;
come, And recreate me, now grown ruinous;
My heart is by dejection, clay,
And by self-murder, red.
From this red earth, Oh! Father,
purge away all vicious tinctures; that, new-fashioned,
I may rise up from death before I'm dead.
-Donne, a mystic English preacher.
Thanks Dad, this one nails it on the head.
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