Phillip Medhurst

Our Lady’s body suffered not decay,

Exempt from the determined consequence

Of carnal lust and fell concupiscence,

The penalty which Adam’s kind all pay.

Do I then rave if I speak of a Day

When an archangel’s shout will call me thence,

Embodied soul, to get my recompense

For what I said, did, did not do, or say;

Or speculate that I will then be changed

Into a wholesome, holy entity

In which the atoms have been re-arranged

By my Redeemer, who I then shall see

In this my flesh? I am, perhaps, deranged

While hope defies impossibility.