Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 20, by EDWARD TAYLOR



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 20, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: View all ye eyes above, this sight which flings
Last Line: With my strong wings whose feathers are thine own.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


View all ye eyes above, this sight which flings
Seraphick Phancies in Chill Raptures high,
A Turffe of Clay, and yet bright Glories King
From dust to Glory Angell-like to fly.
A Mortall Clod immortalizde, behold,
Flyes through the Skies swifter than Angells could.

Upon the Wings he of the Winde rode in
His Bright Sedan, through all the Silver Skies
And made the Azure Cloud his Charriot bring
Him to the Mountain of Celestiall joyes.
The Prince o'th'Aire durst not an Arrow spend
While through his Realm his Charriot did ascend.

He did not in a Fiery Charriot's Shine,
And Whirlewinde, like Elias upward goe.
But th'golden Ladders Jasper rounds did climbe
Unto the Heavens high from Earth below.
Each step trod on a Golden Stepping Stone
Of Deity unto his very Throne.

Methinks I see Heavens sparkling Courtiers fly,
In flakes of Glory down him to attend:
And heare Heart Cramping notes of Melody,
Surround his Charriot as it did ascend
Mixing their Musick making e'ry string
More to inravish as they this tune sing.

God is Gone up with a triumphant Shout
The Lord with sounding Trumpets melodies.
Sing Praise, sing Praise, sing Praise, sing Praises out,
Unto our King sing praise seraphickwise.
Lift up your Heads ye lasting Doore they sing
And let the King of Glory Enter in.

Art thou ascended up on high, my Lord,
And must I be without thee here below?
Art thou the sweetest Joy the Heavens afford?
Oh! that I with thee was! what shall I do?
Should I pluck Feathers from an Angells Wing,
They could not waft me up to thee my King.

Lend mee thy Wings, my Lord, I'st fly apace.
My Soules Arms stud with thy strong Quills, true Faith,
My Quills then Feather with thy Saving Grace,
My Wings will take the Winde thy Word displai'th.
Then I shall fly up to thy glorious Throne
With my strong Wings whose Feathers are thine own.





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