Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 39, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 39, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: My sin! My sin, my god, these cursed dregs
Last Line: And my rough feet shall thy smooth praises sing.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


My Sin! my Sin, My God, these cursed Dregs,
Green, Yellow, Blew streakt Poyson hellish, ranck
Bubs hatcht in natures nest on Serpents Eggs,
Yelp, cherp and cry; they set my |Soule a Cramp.
I frown, Chide, strik and fight them, mourn and Cry
To Conquour them, but cannot them destroy.

I cannot kill norm Coop them up: my Curb
'S less than a Snaffle in their mouth: my Rains
They as a twine thrid, snap: by hell they're spurd:
And load my Soule with swagging loads of pains.
Black Imps, young Divells, snap, bite, drag to bring
And pick mee headlong hells dread Whirle Poole in.

Lord, hold thy hand: for handle mee thou may'st
In Wrath: but, oh, a twinckling Ray of hope
Methinks I spie thou graciously display'st
There is an Advocate: a doore is hope.
Sin's poyson swell my heart would till it burst,
Did not a hope hence creep in't thus, and nurse't.

Joy, joy, Gods Son's the sinners Advocate
Doth plead the Sinner guiltless, and a Saint.
But yet Atturnies pleas spring from the state
The Case is in: if bad its bad in plaint.
My Papers do contain no pleas that do
Secure mee from, but knock me down to, woe.

I have no plea mine Advocate to give:
What now? He'l anvill Arguments greate Store
Out of his Flesh and Blood to make thee live.
O Deare bought Arguments: Good pleas therefore.
Nails made of heavenly Steel, more Choice than gold
Drove home, Well Clencht, eternally will hold.

Oh! Dear bought Plea, Deare Lord, what buy't so deare?
What with thy blood purchase thy plea for me?
Take Argument out of thy Grave t'appeare
And plead my Case with, me from Guilt to free.
These maule both Sins, and Divells, and amaze
Both Saints, and Angells; Wreath their mouths
with praise.

What shall I doe, my Lord? what do, that I
May have thee plead my Case? I fee thee will
With Faith, Repentance, and obediently
Thy Service gainst Satanick Sins fulfill
I'l fight thy fields while Live I do, although
I should be hackt in pieces by thy foe.

Make me thy Friend, Lord, by my Surety: I
Will be thy Client, be my Advocate:
My Sins make thine, thy Pleas make mine hereby.
Thou wilt mee save, I will thee Celebrate.
Thou'lt kill my Sins that cut my heart within:
And my rough Feet shall thy smooth praises sing.






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