Salvation to all who will is nigh, That All, which always is All everywhere, Which cannot sin and yet all sins must bear, Which cannot die, yet cannot choose but die, Lo, faithful Virgin, yields himself to lie In prison, in thy womb; and though he there Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet he will wear Taken from thence, flesh, which death’s force may try. Ere by the spheres time was created, thou Wast in his mind, who is thy son, and brother, Whom thou conceiv’st, conceived; yea thou art now Thy Maker’s maker, and thy Father’s mother; Thou hast light in dark; and shutt’st in little room, Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb.
John Donne (1572–1631)