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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 67 (A), by EDWARD TAYLOR Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: My china ware or amber casket bright Last Line: With breast on sharpest thorn, thy praise shall sing. Subject(s): Puritans In Literature | |||
My China Ware or Amber Casket bright, Filld with Ambrosian Spirits soakt and Bindg'd, Made all a Mass of Quicken'd metall right, Transparent Silver Bowles with flowers Enfringd Sent to the Temple by king Ptolemy Compard thereto are but vile Trumpery. These Spirits, drawn by heavens Chymistry And Casked up, with Cask Conspire into A Lump of Sacred Fire that actively About thy Sacred Selfe entwine and grow So that this Cask bindgd with these Spirits rise A fearer of Jehovah, holy wise. In acting of the same with Holy Skill And Sanctifying Sight as Shining Eyes Some soure, and muddy Humors soon do still When that the Glass is jumbled up arise Or in its China ware some spot or Dimple, Or Amber Cask unhoopt hath Crack or Wrinkle. The Spirits and the Vial both are sick. The Lump Consisting of them both so trim Is out of trim, sore wounded to the quick Distemperd by ill Humors bred therein. Some poyson's in the golden Cup of wine, That treason works against the king Divine. I fain would purge the poison out, and Cleare The liquor from the musty dregs therein. The Bottle free from Crack, Dint, and bad geer, The China Ware from Spot or Wrinkling And all the Quickend Lump I fain would Cure Of all ill Humors, Sickness, wound, or Sore. But cannot do the same, yet this I finde, To them that feare thy Name Lord, there doth rise The Sun of Righteousness, (this Cheers my minde) With healing in his Wings Physicianwise. This yields reliefe. Some things in such as do The Fear is bad: in them diseases grow. Mine argument let winde into thine heart, That hence I do assume seing its sure None that do feare thee, perfect bee, each part. I'm one of them or none of them I'm sure. If one of them, my bad Distempers shall Not it disproove. I don't excell them all. They want a Cure: and so do I: I'm not Pleasd with my mud: Sin doth not tickle mee. The Wrinkles Crest, or Dints my ware hath got My Sores and Sicknesses my Sorrows bee. I'l strive against them till I'st strive no more. While healing Wings abide, Ile not give o're. The Objects of the Sun of Righteousness Doth with its healing wing rise Cleare upon Have need of healing. I do need no less. Our wants for kinde are equall hereupon. We both are of our sickness sick. Hence shown We both are by the argument proovd one. Hence this I pray, and pray no less than this. Grant, Lord, mine Eyes with acute Sight not dim, Thy Shining Sun of Righteousness may kiss And broodled bee under its Healing Wing. My Bird like to a Nighting gaile in th'Spring With breast on sharpest thorn, thy praise shall sing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE JOY OF CHURCH FELLOWSHIP RIGHTLY ATTENDED by EDWARD TAYLOR GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE PREFACE by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 1 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 32 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 38 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 8 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 3 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 56 by EDWARD TAYLOR GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: CHRIST'S REPLY by EDWARD TAYLOR GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE JOY OF CHURCH FELLOWSHIP RIGHTLY ATTENDED by EDWARD TAYLOR |
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