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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=381167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Preparatory Meditations - First Series: 29</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(John. 20:17. My Father, and your Father, to my God, and your God)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My shattered fancy stole away from me<br>(Wits run a-wooling over Eden's park)<br>And in God's garden saw a golden tree,<br>Whose heart was all divine, and gold its bark.<br>Whose glorious limbs and fruitful branches strong<br>With saints and angels bright are richly hung.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou! Thou! my dear dear Lord, art this rich tree,<br>The tree of life within God's Paradise.<br>I am a withered twig, dried fit to be<br>A chat cast in Thy fire, writh off by vice.<br>Yet if Thy milk-white gracious hand will take me<br>And graft me in this golden stock, Thou'lt make me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou'lt make me then its fruit, and branch to spring,<br>And though a nipping east wind blow, and all<br>Hell's nymphs with spite their dog's sticks therat ding<br>To dash the graft off, and its fruits to fall,<br>Yet I shall stand Thy graft, and fruits that are<br>Fruits of the tree of life Thy graft shall bear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I being graft in Thee, there up do stand<br>In us relations all that mutual are.<br>I am Thy patient, pupil, servant, and <br>Thy sister, mother, dove, spouse, son, and heir.<br>Thou art my priest, physician, prophet, king,<br>Lord, brother, bridegroom, father, everything.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I being graft in Thee I am grafted here<br>Into Thy family, and kindred claim<br>To all in heaven, God, saints, and angels there.<br>I Thy relations my relations name.<br>Thy father's mine, Thy God my God, and I<br>With saints and angels draw affinity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My Lord, what is it that Thou dost bestow?<br>The praise on this account fills up, and throngs<br>Eternity brimful, doth overflow<br>The heavens vast with rich angelic songs.<br>How should I blush? How tremble at this thing,<br>Not having yet my gam-ut learned to sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, Lord, as burnished sunbeams forth out fly,<br>Let angel-shine forth in my life outflame,<br>That I may grace Thy graceful family<br>And not to Thy relations be a shame.<br>Make me Thy graft, be Thou my golden stock.<br>Thy glory then I'll make my fruits and crop.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+Taylor">Edward Taylor</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=381167" data-title="Preparatory Meditations - First Series: 29 de Edward Taylor" data-description="(John. 20:17. My Father, and your Father, to my God, and your God)

My shattered fancy stole away from me
(Wits run a-wooling over Eden's park)
And in God's garden saw a golden tree,
Whose heart was all divine, and gold its bark.
Whose glorious li..."></div>
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