New Testament Inspired Words of James Nayler - Nayler Sonnet 20 by K. Boulding

New Testament Inspired:

Beautiful Quaker Words: James Nayler’s Deathbed Testimony

There is a spirit which I feel that delights to do no evil, nor to revenge any wrong, but delights to endure all things, in hope to enjoy its own in the end. Its hope is to outlive all wrath and contention, and to weary out all exaltation and cruelty, or whatever is of a nature contrary to itself. It sees to the end of all temptations. As it bears no evil in itself, so it conceives none in thought to any other. If it be betrayed, it bears it, for its ground and spring is the mercies and forgiveness of God. Its crown is meekness, its life is everlasting love unfeigned; it takes its kingdom with entreaty and not with contention, and keeps it by lowliness of mind. In God alone it can rejoice, though none else regard it, or can own its life. It is conceived in sorrow, and brought forth without any to pity it; nor doth it murmur at grief and oppression. It never rejoiceth but through sufferings; for with the world's joy it is murdered. I found it alone, being forsaken. I have fellowship therein with them who lived in dens and desolate places of the earth, who through death obtained this resurrection and eternal holy life.

Thou wast with me when I fled from the face of mine enemies: then didst Thou warn me in the night: Thou carriedst me in Thy power into the hiding-place Thou hadst prepared for me: there Thou coveredst me with Thy Hand that in time Thou mightst bring me forth a rock before all the world. When I was weak Thou stayedst me with Thy Hand, that in Thy time Thou mightst present me to the world in Thy strength in which I stand, and cannot be moved. Praise the Lord, O my soul. Let this be written for those that come after. Praise the Lord.

Kenneth Boulding’s Nayler Sonnets:

20. It’s conceived in sorrow, and brought forth without any to pity it

Must every flower reek of its mother dung,

And every joy spring rash from beds of pain?

Must every bliss be minted with a bane,

And songs of joy to mournful chants be sung?

What though the saints from misery’s mass have wrung

Their drops of living water—can the chain

Of golden love the pearl of price sustain

When all the weight of woe thereon is hung?

Lord, could’st Thou not have brought this life of Thine

That we inherit, as a cost less great?

Was there no way to Thee, no other gate

But sorrow’s gloomy cave, where no lights shine

But Thy small rush? Then did’st Thou give us night

For stars, and give us suffering for Thy light.