Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 14, by EDWARD TAYLOR Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Halfe-dead: and rotten at the coare: my lord Last Line: And I will tune thy praise with holy breath. Subject(s): Puritans In Literature | ||||||||
Halfe Dead: and rotten at the Coare: my Lord! I am Consumptive: and my Wasted lungs Scarce draw a Breath of aire: my Silver Coard Is loose. My buckles almost have no tongues. My Heart is Fistulate: I am a Shell. In Guilt and Filth I wallow, Sent and Smell. Shall not that Wisdom horded up in thee (One key whereof is Sacerdotall Types) Provide a Cure for all this griefe in mee And in the Court of Justice save from Stripes, And purge away all Filth and Guilt, and bring A Cure to my Consumption as a King? Shall not that Wisdom horded in thee (which Prophetick Types enucleate) forth shine With Light enough a Saving Light to fix On my Poore Taper? And a Flame Divine? Making my Soule thy Candle and its Flame Thy Light to guide mee, till I Glory gain? Shall not that Wisdom horded in thee up (Which Kingly Types do shine upon in thee) Mee with its Chrystall Cupping Glasses cup And draine ill Humours wholy out of mee? Ore come my Sin? And mee adorn with Grace And fit me for thy Service, and thy Face? How do these Pointers type thee out most right As Graces Officine of Wisdom pure The fingers Salves and Medicines so right That never faile, when usd, to worke a Cure? Oh! that it would my Wasted lungs recrute. And make my feeble Spirits upward shute. How Glorious art thou, Lord? Cloathd with the Glory Of Prophets, Priests, and Kings? Nay all Types come To lay their Glory on thee. (Brightsome Story). Their Rayes attend thee, as Sun Beams the Sun. And shall my Ulcer'd Soule have such reliefe? Such glorious Cure? Lord strengthen my beliefe. Why dost not love, my Soule? or Love grow strong? These glorious Beams of Wisdom on thee shine. Will not this Sunshine make thy branch green long, And flowrish as it doth to heaven climbe? Oh! chide thyselfe out of thy Lethargie, And unto Christ on Angells wings up fly. Draw out thy Wisdom, Lord, and make mee just. Draw out thy Wisdom. Wisdoms Crown give mee. With shining Holiness Candy my Crust: And make mee to thy Scepter bow the knee. Let thy rich Grace mee save from Sin, and Death: And I will tune thy Praise with holy Breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE JOY OF CHURCH FELLOWSHIP RIGHTLY ATTENDED by EDWARD TAYLOR GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE PREFACE by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 1 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 32 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 38 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 8 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 3 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 56 by EDWARD TAYLOR GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: CHRIST'S REPLY by EDWARD TAYLOR GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE JOY OF CHURCH FELLOWSHIP RIGHTLY ATTENDED by EDWARD TAYLOR |
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