The Poems of Edward Taylor Edited by Donald E. Standford ... With a foreword by Louis L. Martz |
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The Souls Address to Christ against these Assaults. |
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 | The Poems of Edward Taylor |  |
The Souls Address to Christ against these Assaults.
Thou Gracious Lord, Our Honour'd Generall
May't suite thy Pleasure never to impute,
It our Presumption, when presume we shall
To line thy Noble Ears with our Greate suite?
With ropes about our necks we come and lie,
Before thy pleasure's Will, and Clemency.
May't suite thy Pleasure never to impute,
It our Presumption, when presume we shall
To line thy Noble Ears with our Greate suite?
With ropes about our necks we come and lie,
Before thy pleasure's Will, and Clemency.
When we unto the height of Sin were grown,
We sought thy Throne to overthrow; but were
In this our seeking Quickly overthrown:
A Mass of Mercy in thy face shone cleare.
We quarter had: though if we'de had our share
We had been quarter'd up as Rebells are.
We sought thy Throne to overthrow; but were
In this our seeking Quickly overthrown:
A Mass of Mercy in thy face shone cleare.
We quarter had: though if we'de had our share
We had been quarter'd up as Rebells are.
Didst thou thy Grace on Treators arch expend?
And force thy Favour on thy stubborn Foe?
And hast no Favour for a failing Friend,
That in thy Quarrell trippeth with his toe?
If thus it be, thy Foes Speed better far,
Than do thy Friends, that go to fight thy War.
And force thy Favour on thy stubborn Foe?
And hast no Favour for a failing Friend,
That in thy Quarrell trippeth with his toe?
If thus it be, thy Foes Speed better far,
Than do thy Friends, that go to fight thy War.
405
But is it as the Adversary said?
Dost thou not hear his murdering Canons roare?
What Vollies fly? What Ambushments are laid?
And still his stratagems grow more, and more.
Lord, fright this frightfull Enemy away.
A Trip makes not a Traitor: Spare we pray.
Dost thou not hear his murdering Canons roare?
What Vollies fly? What Ambushments are laid?
And still his stratagems grow more, and more.
Lord, fright this frightfull Enemy away.
A Trip makes not a Traitor: Spare we pray.
And if thou still suspect us come, and search:
Pluck out our hearts and search them narrowly.
If Sin allow'd in any Corner learch,
We beg a Pardon, and a Remedy.
Lord Gybbit up such Rebells Arch Who do
Set ope the back doore to thy Cursed foe.
Pluck out our hearts and search them narrowly.
If Sin allow'd in any Corner learch,
We beg a Pardon, and a Remedy.
Lord Gybbit up such Rebells Arch Who do
Set ope the back doore to thy Cursed foe.
| The Poems of Edward Taylor | |