Edward Taylor - Westfield, MA
Posted by: 
neoc1
N 42° 07.355 W 072° 44.653
18T E 686464 N 4665849
The Rev. Edward Taylor is considered to be the first and foremost colonial American poet. His grave is located in the Mechanic Street Cemetery, 45 Mechanic Street, Westfield, MA
Waymark Code: WMVZ8F
Location: Massachusetts, United States
Date Posted: 06/15/2017
Views: 1
The grave of the Rev. Edward Taylor is marked by a 5' high sandstone marker with the image of crowned winged angel in the lunette and the inscription:
Here Rests ye Body
of ye Revd. Mr. Edward
Taylor ye Aged
Venerable Learned
& Pious Pastor of ye
Church of Christ in
this Town who after
He had Served God
and his Generation
Faithfully for Many
Years Fell asleep
June 24th 1729 in ye
87th Year of his Age.
Edward Taylor was born in Coventry, England in around 1642. He emigrated to the American Colonies in 1668 and became pastor of the Congregational Church of Christ in Westfield, Massachusetts Bay Colony. Although he began writing poetry around 1668, his poems were forgotten for over 200 years. A 7000 page manuscript of his poems were discovered by Thomas H. Johnson in the Yale University Library and published in The New England Quarterly in 1937.
A collection of his work were published in Preparatory Meditations (1682-1725) and Gods Determinations touching his Elect and the Elects Combat in Their Conversion and Coming up to God in Christ: Together with the Comfortable Effects Thereof(about 1682). Over 60 of his sermons are published in The Harmony of the Gospels.
Among Edward Taylor's published poems (along with the opening lines) are:
Meditation 1
"What Love is this of thine, that Cannot bee
In thine Infinity, O Lord, Confinde"
I am the Living Bread
"Which Bread of Life from Heaven down came and stands
Disht on thy Table up by Angells Hands."
Things Present
"Oh! that I ever felt what I profess.
'Twould make me then the happi'st man alive."
I Go to Prepare a Place for You.
"Who goes away t'prepare's a place most cleare
Whose Shine o're shines the shining Sunshine here."
Let Him Kiss Me With the Kisse of His Mouth
"Shall Christ bestow his lovely Love on his,
And mask his face? allowing not a kiss?"
Our Insufficiency to Praise God Suitably, for His Mercy.
"Our Musick would the World of Worlds out ring
Yet be unfit within thine Eares to ting."
And All Drunk the Same Spirituall Drinke
"A River down out runs through ages all.
A Fountain opte, to wash off Sin and Fall."
He Sent a Man Before Them, Even Joseph, Who Was Sold, ....
"All Dull, my Lord, my Spirits flat, and dead
All water sockt and sapless to the skin.
Oh! Screw mee up and make my Spirits bed
Thy quickening vertue For my inke is dim,
My pensill blunt. Doth Joseph type out thee?"
God Commends His Love Unto Us, In That While We Were Yet Sinners, Christ Died For Us
"Gods Love thus Caskt in Heaven, none can tap
Or breake its truss hoops, or attain a Scrap.
The Cup of Blessing Which Wee Bless, is It Not the Comunion of the Body of Christ? ...
Oh! Gracious Grace! whither soarst thou? How high
Even from thy root to thy top branch dost tower?
Thou springst from th'essence of blesst Deity
And grow'st to th'top of Heavens all blissfull flower."
If One Died For All Then Are All Dead
"What did Deaths arrow shot at me thee hit?
Didst slip between that flying shaft and mee?
Didst make thyselfe Deaths marke shot at for nice?
So that her Shaft shall fly no far than thee?
The Joy Of Church Fellowship Rightly Attended
"In Heaven soaring up, I dropt an Eare
On Earth: and oh! sweet Melody!
And listening, found it was the Saints who were
Encoacht for Heaven that sang for Joy.
For in Christs Coach they sweetly sing,
As they to Glory ride therein."
An Address to the Soul Occasioned by a Rain
"Shall I be made
A sparkling Wildfire Shop,
Where my dull Spirits at the Fireball trade
Do frisk and hop?"
Huswifery
"Make me, O Lord, thy Spinning Wheele compleat;
Thy Holy Worde my Distaff make for mee.
Make mine Affections thy Swift Flyers neate,
And make my Soule thy holy Spoole to bee."
The Reflexion
"Shall I not smell thy sweet, oh! Sharons Rose?
Shall not mine Eye salute thy Beauty? Why?
Shall thy sweet leaves their Beautious sweets upclose?
As halfe ashamde my sight should on themly?"