Thy Maker is thy Husband

The 18th-century poem on union with Christ that became George Whitefield’s favorite metaphor. /

Of light and life, of grace and glore,
In Christ thou art partaker,
Rejoice in him for evermore,
Thy husband is thy maker.

He made thee, yea, made thee his bride,
Nor heeds thine ugly patch;
To what he made he'll still abide,
Thy husband made the match.

He made all, yea, he made all thine,
All to thee shall be giv'n.
Who can thy kingdom undermine?
Thy husband made the heav'n.

What earthly thing can thee annoy?
He made the earth to be;
The waters cannot thee destroy,
Thy husband made the sea.

Don't fear the flaming element
Thee hurt with burning ire,
Or that the scorching heat torment
Thy husband made the fire.

Infectious streams shall ne'er destroy,
While he is pleased to spare;
Thou shalt thy vital breath enjoy,
Thy husband made the air.

The sun that guides the golden day,
The moon that rules the night,
The starry frame, the milky way,
Thy husband made for light.

The bird that wings its airy path,
The fish that cuts the flood,
The creeping crowd that swarms beneath,
Thy husband made for good.

The grazing herd, the beasts of prey,
The creatures great and small,
For thy behoof their tribute pay;
Thy husband made them all.

Thine's Paul, Apollos, life and death,
Things present, things to be;
And ev'ry thing that being hath,
Thy husband made for thee.

In Tophet, where the damn'd resort,
Thy soul shall never dwell,
Nor needs from thence imagine hurt;
Thy husband formed hell.

Satan with instruments of his
May rage, yet dread no evil;
So far as he a creature is,
Thy husband made the devil.

His black temptations may afflict,
His fiery darts annoy;
But all his works, and hellish tricks,
Thy husband will destroy.

Let armies strong of earthly gods
Combine with hellish ghosts,
They live or languish, at his nods
Thy husband's Lord of hosts.

What can thee hurt? whom dost thou fear?
All things are at his call.
Thy maker is thy husband dear,
Thy husband's all in all.

What dost thou seek? What dost thou want?
He'll thy desires fulfil;
He gave himself, what won't he grant?
Thy husband's at thy will.

The more thou dost of him desire,
The more he loves to give:
High let thy mounting aims aspire,
Thy husband gives thee leave.

The less thou seek'st, the less thou dost
His bounty set on high;
But highest seekers here do most
Thy husband glorify.

Would'st thou have grace? Well; but 'tis meet
He should more glory gain.
Wouldst thou have Father, Son, and Sp'rit?
Thy husband says AMEN.

He'll kindly act the lib'ral God,
Devising lib'ral things:
With royal gifts his subjects load;
Thy husband's King of kings.

No earthly monarch has such store
as thou hast ev'n in hand
But, O how infinitely more
Thy husband gives on band;

Thou hast indeed the better part,
The part will fail thee never:
Thy husband's hand, thy husband's heart,
Thy husband's all for ever.

Ralph Erskine was an 18th-century Scottish revivalist pastor. This is the 10th and final sonnet on the topic of “The Believer’s Jointure” in The Poetical Works of the Reverend and Learned Ralph Erskine . . .

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Also in this Issue

Issue 16 / February 19, 2015
  1. Editors’ Note
  2. Are Butterflies a New Creation After All?

    Their metamorphosis has inspired spiritual metaphors and biological debate for centuries. /

  3. George Whitefield, Divine Matchmaker

    The revivalist preached, ‘Come and be married to Christ’—and sparked the Great Awakening. /

  4. If C.S. Lewis Met E.T.

    Scientists and theologians on the possibility of extraterrestrial life. /

  5. Wonder on the Web

    Links to amazing stuff /

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