by Anne Bradstreet
Lord, why should I doubt any more when Thou hast given me such assured pledges of Thy love? First, Thou art my Creator, I Thy creature, Thou my master, I Thy servant. But hence arises not my comfort, Thou art my Father, I Thy child; “Ye shall be My sons and daughters,” saith the Lord Almighty. Christ is my brother, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father, unto my God and your God; but lest this should not be enough, thy maker is thy 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 durst in his heart have presumed to have thought it? So wonderful are these thoughts that my spirit fails in me at the consideration thereof. and I am confounded to think that God, who hath done so much for me, should have so little from me. But this is my comfort, when I come to Heaven, I shall understand perfectly what He hath done for me, and then shall I be able to praise Him as I ought. Lord, having this hope, let me purify myself as Thou art pure, and let me be no more afraid of death, but even desire to be dissolved and be with Thee, which is best of all.