Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 18, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 18, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: A bran, a chaff, a very barly yawn
Last Line: That equalls davids michtam which is in't.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


A Bran, a Chaff, a very Barly yawn,
An Husk, a Shell, a Nothing, nay yet Worse,
A Thistle, Bryer prickle, pricking Thorn
A Lump of Lewdeness, Pouch of Sin, a purse
Of Naughtiness, I am, yea what no Lord?
And wilt thou be mine Altar? and my bord?

Mine Heart's a Park or Chase of sins: Mine Head
'S a Bowling Alley. Sins play Ninehole here.
Phansy's a Green: sin Barly breaks in't led.
Judgment's a pingle. Blindeman's Buff's plaid there.
Sin playes at Coursey Parke within my Minde.
My Wills a Walke in which it aires what's blinde.

Sure then I lack Atonement. Lord me help.
Thy Shittim Wood ore laid With Wealthy brass
Was an Atoning altar, and sweet smelt:
But if ore laid with pure pure gold it was
It was an Incense Altar, all perfum'd
With Odours, wherein Lord thou thus was bloom'd.

Did this ere during Wood when thus orespread
With these erelasting Metalls altarwise
Type thy Eternall Plank of Godhead, Wed
Unto our Mortall Chip, its sacrifice?
Thy Deity mine Altar. Manhood thine.
Mine Offring on't for all men's Sins, and mine?

This Golden Altar puts such weight into
The sacrifices offer'd on't, that it
Ore weighs the Weight of all the sins that flow
In thine Elect. This Wedge, and beetle split
The knotty Logs of Vengeance too to shivers:
And from their Guilt and shame them cleare delivers.

This Holy Altar by its Heavenly fire
Refines our Offerings: casts out their dross
And sanctifies their Gold by its rich 'tire
And all their steams with Holy Odours boss.
Pillars of Frankincense and rich Perfume
They 'tone Gods nosthrills with, off from this Loom.

Good News, Good Sirs, more good than comes within
The Canopy of Angells. Heavens Hall
Allows no better: this atones for sin,
My Glorious God, Whose Grace here thickest falls.
May I my Barly yawn, Bran, Bryer Claw,
Lay on't a Sacrifice? or Chaff or Straw?

Shall I my sin Pouch lay, on thy Gold Bench
My Offering, Lord, to thee? I've such alone
But have no better. For my sins do drench
My very best unto their very bone.
And shall mine Offering by thine Altars fire
Refin'd, and sanctifi'd to God aspire?

Amen, ev'n so be it. I now will climb
The stares up to thine Altar, and on't lay
Myselfe, and services, even for its shrine.
My sacrifice brought thee accept I pray.
My Morn, and Evning Offerings I'le bring
And on this Golden Altar Incense fling.

Lord let thy Deity mine Altar bee
And make thy Manhood, on't my sacrifice.
For mine Atonement: make them both for mee
My Altar t'sanctify my gifts likewise
That so myselfe and service on't may bring
Its worth along with them to thee my king.

The thoughts whereof, do make my tunes as fume,
From off this Altar rise to thee Most High
And all their steams stufft with thy Altars blooms,
My Sacrifice of Praise in Melody.
Let thy bright Angells catch my tune, and sing't.
That Equalls Davids Michtam which is in't.





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