Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 46, by EDWARD TAYLOR



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 46, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I drown, my lord. What though the streame I'm in
Last Line: Thy praises sweetly, spite of feares sad sting.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


I drown, my Lord. What though the Streame I'm in
Rosewater bee, Or Ocean to its brinkes
Of Aqua Vitae where the Ship doth swim?
The Surges drown the Soul, oreflowd, that sinks.
A Sea of Liquid gold with rocks of pearle
May drownd as well as Neptune's Fishy Well.

Thy Fulness, Lord, my Filberd cannot hold.
How should an acorn bowle the Sea lade dry?
A Red rose leafe the Suns bright bulk up fold?
Or halfe an Ants egge Canopy the Sky?
The world play in a Sneale horn Hide, and Seek
May, ere my thimble can thy fulness meete.

All fulness is in thee my Lord, and Christ.
The fulness of all Excellence is thine.
All's palac'de in thy person, and bespic'de.
All Kinds, and Quantities of't in thee shine.
The Fulness of the Godhead in respect
Unto the Manhood's in thy person kept.

Hence all the Properties, that Godhead hath,
And all their Godhead Operations brave,
Which are the Fulness Godhead forth display'th,
Thy person for their Temple ever have.
All always as transcendent Stones bright, set,
Encabin'd are in thee their Cabbinet.

Oh! what a Lord and Lordship's here my Lord?
How doth thy Fulness, fill thy Hall with Shine?
Some Rayes thereof my Cottage now afford
And let these golden rayes its inside line.
Thy Fulness all, or none at all, Will goe
Together, and in part will never flow.

All, Lord, or None at all! this makes mee dread.
All is so Good, and None at all so bad.
All puts faith to't: but none at all strikes dead.
I'le hope for all, lest none at all makes sad.
Hold up this hope. Lord, then this hope shall sing
Thy praises sweetly, spite of feares Sad Sting.





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