Oh! Golden Rose! Oh, Glittering Lilly white Spic'd o're With heavens File divine, till Rayes Fly forth whose Shine doth Wrack the strongest Sight That Wonders eye is tent of, while't doth gaze On thee. Those Swaddle Bonde's Eternity. And sparkling Cradle is Rich Deity. First Born of e'ry being: hence a son Begot o' th' First: Gods onely Son begot. Hence Deity all ore. Gods nature run Into a Filiall Mould: Eternall knot. A Father then, and son: persons distinct. Though them Sabellians contrar'ly inckt. This mall of Steel falls hard upon those foes Of truth, who make the Holy trinity Into One Person: Arrians too and those Socinians calld, who do Christs Deity Bark out against. But Will they, nill they, they Shall finde this Mall to split their brains away.. Come shine, Deare Lord, out in my heart indeed First born; in truth before thee there was none First Born, as man, born of a Virgin's seed: Before or after thee such up ne'er spring. Hence Heir of all things lockt in natures Chest: And in thy Fathers too: extremely best. Thou Object of Gods boundless brightest Love, Invested with all sparkling rayes of Light Distill thou down, what hony falls above Bedew the Angells Copses, fill our sight And hearts therewith within thy Father's joy. These are but Shreads under thy bench that ly. Oh! that my Soul was all enamored With this First Born enough: a Lump of Love Son of Eternall Father, Chambered Once in a Virgins Womb, dropt from above. All Humane royalty hereby Divin'de. The First born's Antitype: in whom they're shrin'de. Make mee thy Babe, and him my Elder Brother. A Right, Lord grant me in his Birth right high. His Grace, my Treasure make above all other: His Life my Sampler: My Life his joy. I'le hang my love then on his heart, and sing New Psalms on Davids Harpe to thee and him. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SELF-SEEKER by ROBERT FROST THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN by ROBERT BROWNING THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT PHILOMELA: PHILOMELA'S ODE [THAT SHE SANG IN HER ARBOR] by ROBERT GREENE TO A POET THAT DIED YOUNG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY A WINTER DAY by ALBERT LINDLEY BEANE THE LAST NIGHT by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |