Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 75, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 75, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Oh! Strange, my lord. Here's reason at a set
Last Line: I'll sing thy glorious praise in ery room.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


Oh! Strang, my Lord. Here's reason at a set.
Run out of 'ts Wits, construing Grace's Style.
Nay Shining Angells in an holy fret
Confounded are, to see our Bodies Vile
Made Cabinets of Sparkling Gems that far
Out shine the brightest shining heavenly Star.

Mudd made with Muscadine int' mortar Rich,
Dirt wrought with Aqua-Vitae for a Wall
Built all of Precious Stones laid in it, Which
Is with leafe gold bespangled, 'maizes all.
Yet this Amaizment's scarce a minutes Sise
Compar'd unto the matter 'fore our eyes.

Here is a Mudwall tent, whose Matters are
Dead Elements, which mixt make dirty trade:
Which with Life Animall are wrought up faire
A Living mudwall by Gods holy Spade.
Yet though a Wall alive all spruice, and crouce
Its Base, and Vile. And baseness keeps its House.

Nature's Alembick 't is, Its true: that stills
The Noblest Spirits terrene fruits possess,
Yet, oh! the Relicks in the Caldron will
Proove all things else, Guts, Garbage, Rotteness.
And all its pipes but Sincks of nasty ware
That foule Earths face, and do defile the aire.

A varnisht pot of putrid excrements,
And quickly turns to excrements itselfe,
By natures Law: but, oh! there therein tents
A sparke immortall and no mortall elfe.
An Angell bright here in a Swine Sty dwell!
What Lodge of Wonders's this? What tongue can tell?

But, oh! how doth this Wonder still encrease?
The Soule Creeps in't. And by it's too defil'd.
Are both made base, and vile, can have no peace
Without, nor in: and's of its Shine beguil'd.
And though this Spirit in it dwells yet here
Its glory will not dwell with such sad geere.

Both grac'd together, and disgrac'd. Sad Case.
What now becomes of Gods Electing Love?
This now doth raise the Miracle apace,
Christ doth step in, and Graces Art improove.
He kills the Leprosy that taints the Walls:
And sanctifies the house before it falls.

And nature here, though mean and base beside,
With marks and Stains of Sin, and Sin not dead,
Though mortifi'de and dying, in't reside,
With Graces precious Pearls its flourished.
And in our bodies very vile and base
Christ hath enthron'de all sanctifying Grace.

That these dark Cells, and Mudwalld Tents defild,
With nastiness should Cabinets be made
For th'Choicest Pearls in Glories ring enfoild
Out shining all the shining starry trade.
Its glorious Wonders, wrought by Graces hand,
Whereat bright Angells all amaized stand.

Oh! make my Body, Lord, Although its vile,
Thy Warehouse where Grace doth her treasures lay.
And Cleanse the house and ery Room from Soile.
Deck all my Rooms with thy rich Grace I pray.
If thy free Grace doth my low tent, perfume,
I'll sing thy Glorious praise in ery room.





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