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The Poems of Edward Taylor

Edited by Donald E. Standford ... With a foreword by Louis L. Martz

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50. Meditation. Joh. 1.14. Full of Truth.
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50. Meditation. Joh. 1.14. Full of Truth.

27.10m [Dec.] 1702.
The Artists Hand more gloriously bright,
Than is the Sun itselfe, in'ts shining glory
Wrought with a stone axe made of Pearle, as light
As light itselfe, out of a Rock all flory
Of Precious Pearle, a Box most lively made
More rich than gold Brimfull of Truth enlaid.
Which Box should forth a race of boxes send
Teemd from its Womb such as itselfe, to run
Down from the Worlds beginning to its end.
But, o! this box of Pearle Fell, Broke, undone.

171

Truth from it flew: It lost Smaragdine Glory:
Was filld with Falshood: Boxes teemd of Sory.
The Artist puts his glorious hand again
Out to the Worke: His Skill out flames more bright
Now than before. The worke he goes to gain,
He did portray in flaming Rayes of light.
A Box of Pearle shall from this Sory, pass
More rich than that Smaragdine Truth-Box was.
Which Box, four thousand yeares, o'r ere 'twas made,
In golden Scutchons lay'd in inke Divine
Of Promises, of a Prophetick Shade,
And in embellishments of Types that shine.
Whose Beames in this Choice pearle-made-Box all meet
And bedded in't their glorious Truth to keep.
But now, my Lord, thy Humane Nature, I
Doe by the Rayes this Scutcheon sends out, finde
Is this Smaragdine Box where Truth doth ly
Of Types, and Promises, that thee out lin'de.
Their Truth they finde in thee: this makes them shine.
Their Shine on thee makes thee appeare Divine.
Thou givst thy Truth to them, thus true they bee.
They bring their Witness out for thee. Hereby
Their Truth appeares emboxt indeed in thee:
And thou the true Messiah shin'st thereby.
Hence Thou, and They make One another true
And They, and Thou each others Glory shew.
Hence thou art full of Truth, and full dost stand,
Of Promises, of Prophesies, and Types.
But that's not all: All truth is in thy hand,
Thy lips drop onely Truth, give Falshood gripes.
Leade through the World to glory, that ne'er ends
By Truth's bright Hand all such as Grace befriends.

172

O! Box of Truth! tenent my Credence in
The mortase of thy Truth: and Thou in Mee.
These Mortases, and Tenents make so trim,
That They and Thou, and I ne'er severd bee.
Embox my Faith, Lord, in thy Truth a part
And I'st by Faith embox thee in my heart.