God Hoards Us: We Are His Gold Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

to Edward Taylor, Anne Bradstreet, John Donne

God hoards us: we are His gold
or could be, if we wished it so
on earth oh let such wishing grow

from cockle shell earliest and row by row;
so stood the angels snowing in a vast array
above the head of Jacob where he lay

pillowed on stone
and caught up in the mysteries
that glided on the ladders made of light.

God hoards us: we are troth
pledged, bartered, bought so holy John Donne
came to know, and not so late

we are His best bell rung if only
Christ's best bride we stand:
just, pearled, appareled in a field lily faith
before the last gate closing.

and in unnumbered songs our earliest poets wrote
in gilded script I long for still
though hordes deride.

mary angela douglas 27 july 2014