Grapes from Canaan, Title page – Invocation
GRAPES FROM CANAAN; OR THE Believers preſent taſte of future Glory: Expreſſed in a ſhort Divine POEM, The iſſue of ſpare Hours: And Publiſhed at the Requeſt, and for the Entertainment of thoſe whoſe hopes are above their preſent enjoyments.
1 Cor. 13.12. For now we ſee through a glaſs;, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part, but then ſhall I know, even as alſo I am known.
1 Joh. 3.2. —Now are we the ſons of God, and it doth not appear yet what we ſhall be; but we know, that when he ſhall appear, we ſhall be like him, for we ſhall ſee him as he is.
London, Printed by T. L. for the Author, and are to be ſold at the ſign of the Greyhound in Pauls Church-yard, 1658.
To the Right Honorable, Francis Rous Eſq; Provoſt of Eaton, and one of the Council to his Highneſs the Lord Protector.
Honorable Sir,
I Hope You will not conceive that I hold any Compliance with the ſcribling humour of this age, or that as dark as I am, I ſhould ſo little ſee into my ſelf, as not to know my rude and undigeſted Labours unworthy publick light: When I firſt deſign'd within my ſelf the compoſure of this enſuing Poem, my Thoughts were not in the leaſt tendency for a Publication; yet through the perſwaſion of ſome Friends (whoſe better judgements I could not but value above mine own private Opinion) I have ſont my unfledg'd Muſe abroad into the World, humbly aſſuming the boldneſs to ſhrowd it under the wing of Your Honours Protection, aſſuring my ſelf it will find the better welcom for the name of the Patron. Sir, This ſmall Manuel, I confeſs, comes towards you untrimmed, its Innocency being its beſt Dreſs, and its Poetry lying more in Feet than Fancy; yet is it Orthodox, I hope, and Theologically ſubſtantial: The ſubject matter is Divine, anſwering Your Affections; Sublime, not unbeſeeming Your Perſonage; moſt Neceſſary, and therefore not unworthy Your ſerious Thoughts. And for the Meanneſs of the Author, the Heathen man pleads for me; Non quis, ſed quid dicit attendito, not who ſpeaks, but what is ſpoken ought to be conſidered. This little Volume, as it proceeds from me, hath not the leaſt enforcement of a Tolle, lege, written upon it, yet (not to diſown the in-comings of Divine aſſiſtance) like the ſtone Garamantides, habet intus Aureas guttas, it hath Golden Drops within it ſelf, enriching the believing Soul with a lively hope of a bliſsful immortality. My principal inducement of Dedicating this to Your Honor, is, the remembrance of undſerved Favours, which challenge more than an airy Complement at my hands. The ſing alar Love and Reſpect You bore to my good Father while he lived, and the real Teſtimony of Your continued Affection to my ſelf, hath engaged my moſt active Thoughts to ſtudy ſomething which may in ſome meaſure render me ſenſible of both; Theſe few lines therefore, the firſt Fruits of my weaker Attainments of this Nature, I preſent with all Humility to Your Acceptance, in hope that as they may prove a Mite caſt into the Treaſure of GOD'S glory and the publick good, ſo they will ſignifie to Your Honour a Mind ſenſible of, and a Heart thankeful for the many free and noble Favours vouchſafed to my Relations and my Self. Sir, I am very confident Your judicious Eye may running read many rude unpoliſh't Lines in this Draught of Eternity; and therefore I make it my humble Requeſt, That as the Painter of old drew Alexander with his finger upon his defective Eye; So Your known Candour would put a favourable gloſs upon my imperfections, and daſh out my Errata by a charitable connivence. In the confidence whereof I ſhall only raiſe the Application of my humble Suite to Almighty God, That he would make You no leſs faithful in, than able for his Service, that after You have had a glimpſe of his glory in the Kingdom of Grace. You may have a fulneſs of his grace in the Kingdom of Glory; with the which Thoughts upon my Heart in the beſt ſeaſons of my Soul, I ſhall be ever ready to approve my ſelf
Your Honors humble Servant, in the Faith of Chriſt, Francis Taylor.
The Author to the Chriſtian READER.
PLace not on earth thy chief delight,
In which there is more black than white:
VVho ſet their Hearts on things below,
And on the World their Thoughts beſtow,
Of Heavens joy they little know.
Earth's an Impoſtumated Bubble,
A Map of Miſery and Trouble;
Our Silver here is mixt with Droſs,
Our ſweet with ſour, our gain with loſs,
No comfort here without a croſs.
Let Heaven be thy Meditation,
Climbe thither in thy Contemplation;
VVho ſuch a Pearl have in their eye,
The worlds Enjoyments by and by
VVill trample on as Vanity.
No ſeeds of woe are to be found
I'th' furrows of that holy ground;
Yea that Caeleſtial Paradiſe
A ſtranger is to ſin and vice,
No Serpent there is to entice.
E're Death thy Body in the wombe
Of Mother-Earth again entombe,
Be ſure to get an intereſt
In that prepared place of reſt,
Whoſe happineſs can't be expreſt.
Bid Earth adieu, and fix thy Love
Upon thoſe endleſs joyes above;
Let no Decoy thy Heart entice,
But ſtill purſue the Pearl of Price,
Till thou arrive in Paradiſe.
Deo, Opt. Max.
THou great Jehovah, who alone doſt dwell
In Light, and Glory inacceſſible,
My mind enlighten, help me to unfold
The glory that thoſe bleſſed ones behold,
VVho are tranſlated far above the sky,
Into the Region of Eternity.
Inſpire, and actuate my trembling Muſe
VVith heav'nly Raptures, let thy pow'r infuſe
Into her, ſuch a rare activity,
That ſhe, above the dreggy earth may fly,
And be ambitious of a glimpſe at leaſt
Of glory, and the Saints eternal reſt.
Clear up her pur-blind eye, that ſhe may ſee
VVithin the vail, what ever is to be
Seen by the eye of Faith, and may deſcry
The bleſſed Manſions in Eternity:
Then touch her ſtammering tongue, that ſhe their glory
May pencil out with thine own Oratory,
VVhichWhich beſt befits a ſubject ſo divine,
And makes it with the greater luſtre ſhine.
The Gordian knot of glory to unty
VVould puzzel the acuteſt ingeny.
O let thy wiſdom then, my thoughts direct,
Unveile my dark and clouded intellect.
Guide my unskilful hand, that ſo I may
VVithout a blot, heav'ns happineſs pourtray.
This is indeed, a mountain too ſublime
For ſuch an infant Muſe as mine to clime:
Yet if thy ſacred ſpirit lead the way
And me conduct, (for which I humbly pray)
I ſhall adventure, briefly to relate
And draw a Map, of the eternal ſtate
Of thoſe, who in the fragrant boſome ly,
Of ſoul inamouring felicity.
And ſince this is a task, that doth require
The lofty aires of an Angelick Lyre;
Yea, ſince it is a ſubject ſo profound;
An Ocean, that no bottom hath, nor bound;
I thee implore (and Lord grant my deſire)
That what I can't expreſs, I may admire.