Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 117, by EDWARD TAYLOR

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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 117, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: A king thou art, my lord, yea king of kings
Last Line: Where I thy standards glory ere may sing.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature

A King thou art, my Lord, yea King of Kings.
All Kings shall truckle and fall fore thee down.
Thou hast a Kingdom too Whose great bell rings
A Passing peale to Worldly Kings and Crowns.
Thou art the King of Saints and Angells bright.
Thou art the King of Glory, and all Light.

Thy Kingdom is with walls encircled
Stronger than Walls of Brass or Solid Gold.
Its walld about with fire: Stones Cemented
With all the Promises Gods booke doth hold.
And all its buildings laid upon the Rock
Eternall: that Hell gates can't make them shock.

Thou hast a Throne, Crown, Scepter, Mace all Rich
Richer than golden Crowns, pearld all about.
Thou hast a Body of just Laws, all Which
Transcend all Lawes that ever Kings put out.
Thou also hast both Foes and Enemies
That up against thee and thy Realm arise.

Thou hast a Standard and a Banner greate.
Thy Gospell and all Gospell Grace, its flag:
Thy Standards Colours blancht with Grace compleat
Enrich thy Banner doth (that is no rag).
Thou hast a Drum thou beatest up apace
For Volunteers, that thou enlists with Grace.

Thy Souldiers that unto thy Standard high
Deckt in thy Colours up thou trainst aright
To hande their weapons well and dextrously
And rightly use shield Arrow, Sworde and Pike.
And lead'st them out against thy foes, the King
Abaddon, Divells, Wicked Ones and Sin.

Their glittering Swords and Spears Edgd sharp with Grace
Wherewith they are well arm'd do surely bring
Thy Adversaries under and apace
Their hearts do pierce that foes do rise to Ring;
And from the fight to th'Throne triumphantly
Them leadest while Drums beat and Colours fly.

All these thy men under thy flag that fight
In ranke and file, and Graces Exercise
In all the way go 'till they Come aright
Unto thy Palace back triumphing wise
Their Colours on their golden Streamers flying
Do with thy glorious selfe there enter, joying.

Under thy Banner Lord, enlist thou mee.
Make me to ware thy Colours, SAVING GRACE.
Them flourish in my Life, and make thou mee
To beare thy Standerd and thy Banner trace
And so me to thy Palace Glory bring
Where I thy Standards Glory ere may sing.

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