Fire and Ice: Puritan and Reformed Writings
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Things Present

Meditation 35 by Edward Taylor
1 Cor. 3:22

Oh! that I ever felt what I profess.
     'Twould make me then the happi'st man alive.
Ten thousand Worlds of Saints can't make this less
     By living on't, but it would make them thrive.
     These Loaves and Fishes are not lessened
     Nor Pasture over stock, by being fed.

Lord am I thine? art thou, Lord, mine? So rich!
     How doth thy Wealthy bliss branch out thy sweets
Through all things Present? These the Vent-holes which
     Let out those Ravishing Joys our Souls to greet?
     Impower my Powers sweet Lord till up they raise
     My 'Fections that thy glory on them blaze.

How many things are there now, who display thee?
     How many Acts each thing doth here dispense?
How many Influences each thing hath?
     How many Contraries each Influence?
     How many Contraries from Things do flow?
     From Acts? from Influences? Who can show?

How Glorious then is he that doth all raise
     Rule and Dispose and make them all Conspire
In all their Jars, and Junctures, Good-bad wayes
     To meliorate the self same Object higher?
     Earth, Water, Fire, Winds, Herbs, Trees, Beasts and Men,
     Angells, and Divells, Bliss, Blasts, advance one stem?

Hell, Earth, and Heaven with their Whole Troops come
     Contrary Windes, Grace, and Disgrace, Soure, Sweet,
Wealth, Want, Health, Sickness, to Conclude in Sum
     All Providences Works in this good meet?
     Who, who can do't, but thou, my Lord? and thou
     Dost do this thing. Yea thou performst it now.

Oh, that the Sweets of all these Windings, spouse
     Might, and these Influences streight, and Cross,
Upon my Soule, to make thy Shine breake out
     That Grace might in get and get out my dross!
     My Soule up locks then in this Clod of Dust
     Would lock up in't all Heavenly Joyes most just.

But oh! thy Wisdom, Lord! thy Grace! thy Praise!
     Open mine Eyes to see the same aright.
Take off their film, my Sins, and let the Rayes
     Of thy bright Glory on my peepholes light.
     I fain would love and better love thee should,
     If 'fore me thou thy Loveliness unfold.

Lord, Cleare my Sight, thy Glory then out dart.
     And let thy Rayes beame Glory in mine eye
And stick thy Loveliness upon my heart,
     Make me the Couch on which thy Love doth ly.
     Lord make my heart thy bed, thy heart make mine.
     Thy Love bed in my heart, bed mine in thine.

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