The following is a beautiful poem written the man pictured above, John Donne. He lived in England from 1572 – 1631. He was a poet in the Jacobean style. I am a poor alto among other much better altos in my church choir. Tonight I returned from practice where we sang a beautiful and powerful song setting this sonnet to music:
At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scatter'd bodies go;
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you whose eyes
Shall behold God and never taste death's woe.
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
For if above all these my sins abound,
'Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace
When we are there; here on this lowly ground
Teach me how to repent; for that's as good
As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood.
~Holy Sonnet VII
One can picture the general resurrection in this verse - O what a day that will be!