PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 17 by EDWARD TAYLOR

A King, a King, a King indeed, a King
Writh up in Glory! Glorie's glorious Throne
Is glorifide by him, presented him.
And all the Crowns of Glory are his own.
A King, Wise, Just, Gracious, Magnificent.
Kings unto him are Whiffles, Indigent.

What is his Throne all Glory? Crown all Gay?
Crown all of Brightest Shine of Glory's Wealth?
This is a Lisp of Non-sense. I should say,
He is the Throne, and Crown of Glory 'tselfe.
Should Sun beams come to gilde his glory they
Would be as 'twere to gild the Sun with Clay.

My Phancys in a Maze, my thoughts agast,
Words in an Extasy; my Telltale Tongue
Is tonguetide, and my Lips are padlockt fast
To see thy Kingly Glory in to throng.
I can, yet cannot tell this Glory just,
In Silence bury't, must not, yet I must.

This King of King's Brave Kingdom doth Consist
Of Glorious Angells, and Blesst Saints alone
Or Chiefly. Where all Beams of Glory twist,
Together, beaming from, lead to his throne
Which Beams his Grace Coiles in a Wreath to Crown
His, in the End in Endless Bright Renown.

His Two-Edg'd Sword, not murdering Steel so base,
Is made of Righteousness, unspotted, bright
Imbellisht o're with overflowing Grace
Doth killing, Cure the Sinner, kills Sin right.
Makes milkwhite Righteousness, and Grace to reign,
And Satan and his Cubs with Sin ly slain.

Were all Kings deckt with Sparkling Crowns, and arm'd
With flaming Swords, and firy Courage traind
And led under their King Abaddon, Charmd
In battell out against their foes disdaind
One smiling look of this bright Shine would fell
Them and their Crowns of Glory all to Hell.

Thou art my king: let me not be thy Shame.
Thy Law my Rule: my Life thy Life in Mee.
Thy Grace my Badge: my Glory bright thy Name.
I am resolv'd to live and dy with thee.
Keep mee, thou King of Glory on Record.
Thou art my King of Kings, and Lord of Lords.

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