Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 91, by EDWARD TAYLOR

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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 91, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: What once again, my lord, allowst thou mee
Last Line: Thy praise, on my shoshannims, lord, shall ring.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature

What once again, My Lord, allowst thou mee,
Ev'n Mee, poore Dusty thing, thus to enjoy,
With Thee, ev'n thee, 'fore whom, 't's said, Bow the Knee
Ye Angells bright, Communion Graceously?
Thou art so glorious, thy Very Feet
Its glory to the Angells bright to greet.

And shall I on thy Table Fare, Lord, feed,
That is Cookt up by much more Whiter hands
Than ever Angells usd? Thy flesh indeed
Is meate, and Blood is Drink and on it stands.
The Waiters are bright Angells all in Shine
Of their White, Holy, Sapphick Robes Divine.

The thoughts hereof entring upon my Heart
Nigh sink, and drown my fainty Soule ev'n in
The Ocean Sea of Flaming Joy best part.
As she attempts Magnificat to sing
And plunging down and up herein, oft Cries,
As she pops up her head, Raptures of Joyes.

And now, my Lord, me with thy foode sustain:
Mee in good liking make, yea Fat, and fine,
To wait on thee when thou hast come again:
For Come thou wilt, and kindely visit thine.
Thou lov'dst our Nature that its blossoms hang
In thy Description. Hence the Son of Man.

Thou art Continually a Comming, its true,
In Providences Some, that scowle and lower,
That Thunder sharp and fiery lightening spew.
Yet Roses Some, and Mary golds out shower.
Thou comst in Ordinances too: and dost
The golden gifts give of the Holy Ghost.

But still, besides this, there's another which
Our text Embellisheth in glory bright.
Part of thy Exaltations Glory rich
When thou comst with all Angells train of Light.
Then by thy present Comings furnish mee
That I when thou shalt come, may wait on thee.

Hence loade my Trencher with thy Flesh Divine:
Its Angells foode. My Soule doth almost sink:
And press thy Grape into my Cup: Rich Wine.
Lord make thy Blood indeed, my dayly drinke.
When with thy Fare my Vessels fill to th'brim,
Thy Praise, on my Shoshannims, Lord, shall Ring.

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