Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 41, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 41, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: A clew of wonders! Clusterd miracles!
Last Line: That I may pay in glory what I owe.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


A Clew of Wonders! Clusterd Miracles!
Angells, come whet your sight hereon. Here's ground.
Sharpen your Phansies here, ye Saints in Spiricles.
Here is enough in Wonderment to drownd's.
Make here the Shining dark or White on which
Let all your Wondring Contemplations pitch.

The Magnet of all Admiration's here.
Your tumbling thoughts turn here. Here is Gods Son,
Wove in a Web of Flesh, and Bloode rich geere.
Eternall Wisdoms Huswifry well spun.
Which through the Laws pure Fulling mills did pass.
And so went home the Wealthy'st Web that was.

And why thus shew? Hark, harke, my Soule. He came
To pay thy Debt. And being come most Just
The Creditor did sue him for the same,
Did winn the Case, and in the grave him thrust.
Who having in this Prison paid the Debt.
And took a Quittance, made Death's Velvet fret.

He broke her Cramping tallons did unlute
The sealed Grave, and gloriously up rose.
Ascendeth up to glory on this Sute,
Prepares a place for thee where glorie glowes.
Yea yea for thee, although thy griefe out gush
At such black Sins at which the Sun may blush.

What Wonder's here? Big belli'd Wonders in't
Remain, though wrought for Saints as white as milk.
But done for me whose blot's as black as inke.
A Clew of Wonders finer far than Silke.
Thy hand alone that wound this Clew I finde
Can to display these Wonders it unwinde.

Why didst thou thus? Reason stands gasterd here.
She's overflown: this Soares above her Sight.
Gods onely Son for Sinners thus appeare,
Prepare for Durt a throne in glory bright!
Stand in the Doore of Glory to imbrace
Such dirty bits of Dirt, with such a grace!

Reason, lie prison'd in this golden Chain.
Chain up thy tongue, and silent stand a while.
Let this rich Love thy Love and heart obtain
To tend thy Lord in all admiring Style.
Lord screw my faculties up to the Skill
And height of praise as answers thy good Will.

Then while I eye the Place thou hast prepar'de
For such as I, I'le sing thy glory out
Until thou welcome me, as 'tis declar'de
In this sweet glory runing rounde about.
I would do more but can't, Lord help me so
That I may pay in glory what I owe.





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