Prologue

Edward Taylor: Prologe

Prologe

Lord, can a crumb of dust the earth outweigh,Outmatch all mountains, nay the crystal sky?Imbosom in’t designs that shall displayAnd trace into the boundless deity?Yea, hand a pen whose moisture doth gild o’erEternal glory with a glorious glore.

If it is pen had of an angel’s quill,And sharpened on a precious stone ground tight,And dipped in liquid gold, and moved by skillIn crystal leaves should golden letters write,It would but blot and blur, yea, jag and jar,Unless Thou mak’st the pen and scribener.

I am this crumb of dust which is designedTo make my pen unto Thy praise alone,And my dull fancy I would gladly grindUnto an edge on Zion’s precious stone;And write in liquid gold upon Thy nameMy letters till Thy glory forth doth flame.

Let not th’ attempts break down my dust I pray,Nor laugh Thou them to scorn, but pardon give.Inspire this crumb of dust till it displayThy glory through’t: and then Thy dust shall live.Its failings then Thou’lt overlook, I trust,They being slips slipped from Thy crumb of dust.

Thy crumb of dust breathes two words from its breast,That Thou wilt guide its pen to write arightTo prove Thou art and that Thou art the bestAnd shew Thy prosperties to shine most bright.And then Thy works will shine as flowers on stemsOr as in jewelary shops do gems.

Title: this poem is the Prologue to Taylor¡¦s Preparatory Meditations before my Approach to the Lord¡¦s Supperl. 1: crumb of dust; the poet¡¦s pejorative description of himself in his role as poetl. 6: glore; Scottish form for ¡§glory¡¨l. 16: Zion; hill where the temple of Jerusalem was built; the city of God on earth