The Poems of Edward Taylor Edited by Donald E. Standford ... With a foreword by Louis L. Martz |
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145. | 145. Meditation. Can. 6.12. Or ere I was aware my soule
had made mee like the Chariots of Aminadab. |
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The Poems of Edward Taylor | ||
145. Meditation. Can. 6.12. Or ere I was aware my soule had made mee like the Chariots of Aminadab.
19.9m [Nov.] 1718.
Alas! my Lord, how should my Lumpish Heart,
Ascend the golden Ladder of thy praise
With packs of Sweetest Tunes prest like a Carte
Loaded with cold hard iron, Sorrows layes?
Seing thy people tread down under feet,
Thy will reveald, as dirt within the Street.
Ascend the golden Ladder of thy praise
With packs of Sweetest Tunes prest like a Carte
Loaded with cold hard iron, Sorrows layes?
Seing thy people tread down under feet,
Thy will reveald, as dirt within the Street.
I do constrain my Dumpishness away
And to give place unto a Spirituall Verse
Tund on thy glorious joys and to Conveigh
My notes upon the Same, and my heart seirce
From all such dross till sweet tund prais pierce through
Those Clouds of Dumps to come thy throne unto.
And to give place unto a Spirituall Verse
Tund on thy glorious joys and to Conveigh
346
From all such dross till sweet tund prais pierce through
Those Clouds of Dumps to come thy throne unto.
What shall mine Ears, thy Rhetorick displaid
Be lind with Melancholy Dark and sad?
Whilest thus thou singst, My Soule I wist not, made
Me like the Chariots of Aminadab?
Whirld up in heart transporting Raptures bright
And spiced incoms Wonderfull Delights.
Be lind with Melancholy Dark and sad?
Whilest thus thou singst, My Soule I wist not, made
Me like the Chariots of Aminadab?
Whirld up in heart transporting Raptures bright
And spiced incoms Wonderfull Delights.
Oh! what a Speech is this, thy lips do vent.
My Soul as I walk in my Nut tree Vaile
I wist not how its flourishing Vines out sent
Such reechs about me now within its pales,
That me enravished and me they did
Make like the Chariots of Aminadib.
My Soul as I walk in my Nut tree Vaile
I wist not how its flourishing Vines out sent
Such reechs about me now within its pales,
That me enravished and me they did
Make like the Chariots of Aminadib.
Thy Gardens Graces briezing on thee bring
Thee Welcome when thou Visitst it all bright
Transport thy Soul as it on Angells Wings
Flyes to thy Paradise of all delight
Or ears I wist thou saith. And I it see
To be a word too wonderfull for mee.
Thee Welcome when thou Visitst it all bright
Transport thy Soul as it on Angells Wings
Flyes to thy Paradise of all delight
Or ears I wist thou saith. And I it see
To be a word too wonderfull for mee.
My Gracious Lord, take thou my heart and plant
Each Sanctifying Garden Grace therein.
Make it thy nut tree Vaile to have no want
And tune its graces to thy Songs, My King,
When thou unto thy praise my heart shalt tune
My heart shall tune thy praise in sweetest fume.
Each Sanctifying Garden Grace therein.
Make it thy nut tree Vaile to have no want
And tune its graces to thy Songs, My King,
When thou unto thy praise my heart shalt tune
My heart shall tune thy praise in sweetest fume.
The Poems of Edward Taylor | ||