Lord, why should I doubt any more,
when you have given me such assured pledges of your love?
First, you are my Creator, I am your creature,
you are my Master, I your servant.
But hence arises not my comfort: you are my Father, I am your child.
“You shall be my sons and daughters,” says the Lord Almighty.
Christ is my brother:
“I ascend to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God,
but, lest this should not be enough,
your maker is your husband.”
Nay, more, I am a member of his body, he my head.
Such privileges – had not the Word of truth made them known,
who or where is the man that dared
in his heart have presumed to have thought it!
So wonderful are these thoughts
that my spirit fails in me that their consideration,
and I am confounded to think that God,
who has done so much for me,
should have so little from me.
But this is my comfort, that when I come to heaven,
I shall understand perfectly what he has done for me,
and that I shall be able to praise him as I ought.
Lord, having this hope, let me purify myself as you are pure,
and let me be no more afraid of death,
but even desire to be dissolved and be with you,
which is best of all.
Anne Bradstreet, c. 1612-1672, New England poet and Puritan
For now we see in a mirror dimly,
but then face to face.
Now I know in part; then I shall know fully,
even as I have been fully known.