A Prayer For Faith.

Non è più bassa.


There's not on earth a thing more vile and base
        Than, lacking Thee, I feel myself to be:
        For pardon prays my own debility,
        Yearning in vain to lift me to Thy face.

Stretch to me, Lord, that chain whose links enlace
        All heavenly gifts and all felicity--
        Faith, whereunto I strive perpetually,
        Yet cannot find (my fault) her perfect grace.

That gift of gifts, the rarer 'tis, the more
        I count it great; more great, because to earth
        Without it neither peace nor joy is given.

If Thou Thy blood so lovingly didst pour,
        Let not that bounty fail or suffer dearth,
        Withholding Faith that opes the doors of heaven.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni was an Italian sculptor, painter, architect, and poet of the High Renaissance. Born on March 6, 1475, he is widely considered one of the greatest artists of all time. His poetry, although lesser-known compared to his other artistic achievements, displays his deep contemplation of art, love, and spirituality. Michelangelo passed away on February 18, 1564.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

To Monsignor Lodovico Beccadelli. Urbino.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Lover And The Sculptor.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

A Prayer For Purification.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

To Luigi Del Riccio.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

A Prayer For Aid.

Deh fammiti vedere.


Oh, make me see Thee, Lord, where'er I go!
        If mortal beauty sets my soul on fire,
        That flame when near to Thine must needs expire,
        And I with love of only Thee shall glow.
Dear Lord, Thy help I seek against this woe,
        These torments that my spirit vex and tire;
        Thou only with new strength canst re-inspire
        My will, my sense, my courage faint and low.
Thou gavest me on earth this soul divine;
        And Thou within this body weak and frail
        Didst prison it--how sadly there to live!
How can I make its lot less vile than mine?
        Without Thee, Lord, all goodness seems to fail.
        To alter fate is God's prerogative.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

A Prayer For Purification.

Forse perchè d' altrui.


Perchance that I might learn what pity is,
        That I might laugh at erring men no more,
        Secure in my own strength as heretofore,
        My soul hath fallen from her state of bliss:
Nor know I under any flag but this
        How fighting I may 'scape those perils sore,
        Or how survive the rout and horrid roar
        Of adverse hosts, if I Thy succour miss.
O flesh! O blood! O cross! O pain extreme!
        By you may those foul sins be purified,
        Wherein my fathers were, and I was born!
Lo, Thou alone art good: let Thy supreme
        Pity my state of evil cleanse and hide--
        So near to death, so far from God, forlorn.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

A Prayer For Strength.

Carico d'anni.


Burdened with years and full of sinfulness,
        With evil custom grown inveterate,
        Both deaths I dread that close before me wait,
        Yet feed my heart on poisonous thoughts no less.

No strength I find in mine own feebleness
        To change or life or love or use or fate,
        Unless Thy heavenly guidance come, though late,
        Which only helps and stays our nothingness.

'Tis not enough, dear Lord, to make me yearn
        For that celestial home, where yet my soul
        May be new made, and not, as erst, of nought:

Nay, ere Thou strip her mortal vestment, turn
        My steps toward the steep ascent, that whole
        And pure before Thy face she may be brought.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Waiting In Faith.

Se nel volto per gli occhi


If through the eyes the heart speaks clear and true,
        I have no stronger sureties than these eyes
        For my pure love. Prithee let them suffice,
        Lord of my soul, pity to gain from you.
More tenderly perchance than is my due,
        Your spirit sees into my heart, where rise
        The flames of holy worship, nor denies
        The grace reserved for those who humbly sue.
Oh, blesséd day when you at last are mine!
        Let time stand still, and let noon's chariot stay;
        Fixed be that moment on the dial of heaven!
That I may clasp and keep, by grace divine,
        Clasp in these yearning arms and keep for aye
        My heart's loved lord to me desertless given!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

A Prayer For Grace In Death. Second Reading.

Parmi che spesso.


Ofttimes my great desire doth flatter me
        With hope on earth yet many years to stay:
        Still Death, the more I love it, day by day
        Takes from the life I love so tenderly.
What better time for that dread change could be,
        If in our griefs alone to God we pray?
        Oh, lead me, Lord, oh, lead me far away
        From every thought that lures my soul from Thee!
Yea, if at any hour, through grace of Thine,
        The fervent zeal of love and faith that cheer
        And fortify the soul, my heart assail.
Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine,
        Plant, like a saint in heaven, that virtue here;
        For, lacking Thee, all good must faint and fail.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Blood Of Christ.

Mentre m' attrista.


Mid weariness and woe I find some cheer
        In thinking of the past, when I recall
        My weakness and my sins, and reckon all
        The vain expense of days that disappear:
This cheers by making, ere I die, more clear
        The frailty of what men delight miscall;
        But saddens me to think how rarely fall
        God's grace and mercies in life's latest year.
For though Thy promises our faith compel,
        Yet, Lord, what man shall venture to maintain
        That pity will condone our long neglect?
Still from Thy blood poured forth we know full well
        How without measure was Thy martyr's pain,
        How measureless the gifts we dare expect.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni