Am I thy gold? Or purse, Lord, for thy wealth;
   Whether in mine or mint refined for thee?
I'm counted so, but count me o'er thyself,
   Lest gold washt face, and brass in heart I be.
   I fear my touchstone touches when I try
   Me, and my counted gold too overly.

Am I new minted by thy stamp indeed?
   Mine eyes are dim, I cannot clearly see.
Be thou my spectacles that I may read
   Thine image and inscription stampt on me.
   If thy bright image do upon me stand,
   I am a golden angel in thy hand

Lord, make my soul thy plate: thine image bright
   Within the circle of the same enfoil.
And on its brims in golden letters write
   Thy superscription in an holy style.
   Then I shall be thy money, thou my hoard:
   Let me thy Angel be, be thou my Lord.

                       Edward Taylor (1646?-1729),
                             North American Colonies

	


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