Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 32, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 32, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Oh! That I could, my lord, but chide away
Last Line: In a seraphick tune and full of glee.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


Oh! that I could, my Lord, but chide away
That Dulness and the Influences which
Thy All wise Providence doth brieze, display,
Unedging of my Spirits, them down pitch,
Although thy quick'ning Love might make them spring
With its Warm Sun Shine till like birds they sing.

That Love of * * * * in thy Person dwells
All Wonderful in Birth, in Natures shine
In Union too, o're leaping Reason's Shells
One made of twoness Humane, and Divine
Of Infinite, and Finite, (take my Word)
Compound, and Uncompound compose a Third.

That Love I see that in thy Person dwells,
So Great and Good, nothing too good appeares
For it to give to such on whom it fell.
Although it shine on mee I hang mine Eares,
Although it smiles thy * * * doth scowle
In some Things whence my * * * seems fowle.

* * * Love One Object * * *
Thy Life (that Wond'rous Life) * * * is One
Thy people * * * the other though they snug
In Satans Arms, in Sin and Wrath ore grown
This Object then much * * *
Unless thy Love from * * * *

Love borrows Wisdome's Eyes and with them lookes
O're Nature's Cabbinet of Jewells bright
And then attemps th'Accounts down in Gods Books
If Credit may be made and they made right.
But here she findes the Sums so greate, the Debt
Exceed the Worth in Nature's Cabinet.

Alass! what now? shall Satans wiles out wit
Wisdom itselfe and take away Christs eye
His portion from him, and off tare and split
The Object of his Love and * * *
Oh! Cursed Elf * * * the fool
* * * dost thy beams of * * * Wisdome's toole.

How doth she now, my Lord, spy out the Way
Her object and thy merit to set free?
She Comes to thee, and makes thy person pay
Seing sufficient worth alone in thee.
Hence to the Debtor goes to end the strife
Ore payes their debts in laying down her Life.

The Better object of thy Love, Christs Love,
Surrenders up to ruin to redeem
The Other Object of it and remove
That Wrath that else would ever on it been,
Which done it did resume the Life down laid
And both its Objects from the Curse free made.

O let thy lovely streams of Love distill
Upon myselfe and spoute their spirits pure
Into my Viall, and my Vessell fill
With liveliness, from dulness me secure.
And I will answer all this Love of thine
When with it thou hast made me all Divine.

What wilt thou, Lord, deny mee this, that would
Not once deny to lay thy Choice Life downe?
To make a Cabbinet of't more worth than gold,
To give to thine, and buy them Glories Crowne,
My Heart shall harbor better than * * *
If thou my dross dost but refine from mee.

Lord! make my Leaden Whistle metall good,
That in thy Service it may split an haire.
If thou wilt whet it on thy Holy Rub
Twill trim my Life of sin, and make mee fair.
And I will sing a song of Love to thee
In a Seraphick tune and full of glee.





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