Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 70, by EDWARD TAYLOR



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 70, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I humbly crave this riddle to unfold
Last Line: To tune thy praise, run forth on golden feet.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


I humbly Crave this Riddle to unfold
Seing, Lord, thou madst man Compleate at first,
How comes't to pass When Natures egge, that holds
Her Chicken brake, the bird defilde out burst?
A Callous doth the Heart Disspiritualize
Till Gilgal's Razer doth it Circumcise.

Thy first Free Covenant, Calld not for this:
Thy Covenant of Graces Quilting kinde,
Shall it require a Seale that Cutting is?
That fleys the Skin off, that the heart doth rinde?
What is Rebellions Castle made the heart,
Filld up with filth, to be skin'd off? O sharp.

Hath Sin encrusted thus my heart? Sad! Sad!
And latcht my Lips? And Eares made deafe, and ditcht?
O! Lord! pare off, I pray, what ere is bad:
And Circumcise my Heart, mine Eares and Lips.
This in thy Circumcisions heart doth bed.
The Same in baptism is bosomed.

What must Christs Circumcision pacify
Gods Wrath? And's Blood of's Circumcision sore,
Bring Righteousness, Purge Sin, and Mortify
Proude Naughtiness? And wash with Grace mee o're?
And my Uncircumcisedness all slay?
That I might walke in glorious Graces way?

The Infant male must lose its Foreskin first,
Before Gods Spirit Workes as Pulse, therein
To sanctify it from the Sin in't nurst,
And make't in Graces Covenant to spring.
To shew that Christ must be cut off most Pure,
His Covenantall blood must be mans Cure.

And shall this sweet kinde Covenant of Grace
Ware on't a Seale so keen and Cutting sharp
When it its brightst Edition doth embrace?
No, no. Baptism is a better marke.
It's therefore Circumcision's Rightfull Heir
Bearing what Circumcision in't did beare.

Hence me implant in Christ, that I may have
His Blood to wash away the filth in mee.
And finde his Wounds that are so deep, the grave
Wherein my Sins ly dead and buri'de bee.
From which let such sweet Exhalations rise
As shall my Soule deck with an Holy guise.

Lord bed mee in thy Circumcisions Quilt.
My wounds bathe with New Covenantall blood.
My ears with Grace Lord syringe, scoure off guilt.
My Tongue With holy tasled Languague Dub.
And then these parts, baptisde thine Organs keep,
To tune thy Praise, run forth on golden feet.





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