Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	believe_v	faith_n	lord_n	1,391	5	3.9699	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A01890	Babels balm: or The honey-combe of Romes religion With a neate draining and straining-out of the rammish honey thereof. Sung in tenne most elegant elegies in Latine, by that most worthy Christian satyrist, Master George Good-vvinne. And translated into tenne English satyres, by the Muses most vnworthy Eccho, Iohn Vicars.; Melissa religionis pontificiae. English	Goodwin, George, fl. 1607-1620.; Vicars, John, 1579 or 80-1652.	1624 (1624)	STC 12030; ESTC S103245	56,801	130

ones may gratis drinke their fill Alas Christs troubled Truth disgraced grace What Goods what gifts giues Man God to abase Hebrews and Greeks no word for Merit haue Both Couenants God in Greeke and Hebrew gaue The Faithfull liue not by their Righteousnesse Life and soules health the Iust by Faith possesse Saints haue receiu'd but Crownes did ne're bestow And none to lend their Righteousnesse I know Who in himselfe perfection seekes i th' Gra●e Seekes Life which he may seeke but ne're shall haue He makes vp Merit that he so may see Christs Passion spoild and God no God to be Say Peter when as Christ beheld thee weeping What Merits helpt thee who had them in keeping Gods grace is no grace if not gratis giuen Dost thou deserue it Grace is from thee driuen By sinne first Adam Hell to vs did Merit By second Adam we may Heau'n inherit But whose foule Seed can giue a faire conception If no mans can can I wretch all infection My faith 's most firme that me poore wretch to saue Himselfe God valent and Christ volent gaue Each operist-Papist scraps of workes doth add And of 's owne purenesse is halfe-Botcher badd In 's life time oft times he workes aid doth trust But dying he all 's Workes away will thrust O helpelesse Hope on Merits to relie Who trust such faithlesse faith soone fall thereby Such haplesse Hope by hoping spoiles poore wretches Whose care to keepe by too much care bewitches Sole Faith is Sole Cause of Soules health assur'd Christ sayes to th' sicke beleeue and thou art cur'd When Christ our Lord with soules betrothings hath His Nuptials busie Bride-Maide is sole faith The debtour than the Creditour's more base If workes make God our debtour where 's his grace Can Workes worke-out my punishments remission To worke my Blisse adde Merits least addition Can I by Merits my soules sore-eyes cure Are These the Sop● sweet Wash-Bals blots to pure Must heau'ns blest Haruest workes base huskes require Must one-howers worke enioy Ioy infinite Must I with Merit-Oyle enlight my feet Lest I with lightlesse lampe the Bridegroome meet Whom Christs Words Wounds laue saue and sanctifie Can worthlesse Workes those better beautifie Can Merits driue-backe Deaths darts deadly rage Is merit my soules wholesome soueraigne Sage Can Trash pay Treasure Drugs and Drosse pay gold Can mites with mounts minutes with myriads hold Can my deserts Christs death deserts deserue Such proud opinions from true wisdome swerue Since by Christs Bloud 't is plaine I gaine saluation Heau'ns wrath base merit brings to consternation I liue no● of my selfe if so I die God is my life the life of God wish I. Whats'ere is try de i th' Furnace of Gods frowne Is quickly quite with furious flames burnt downe What if mans Workes to th' world seeme ne're so faire If God be Iudge all men most guiltie are Who Guiltie does Gods will vnlesse he doe it By God first Facient He poore patient to it All 's else a Shaddow Christ the Substance pure Christ is alone my Life Saluation sure Christs Price and Ransome my Redemption payd What then can man all payd to pay be made Moyses all liuers liues ith Bloud did place So in Christs Bloud shed is my life my grace Vertue is Vice if Grace by Christ be none And if we ought doe well 't is Gods alone Nor sure did God confect but Gall infect Those Eyes which on Christs Price haue ill aspect O let Christs precious Bloud my blest Bath be And not one drop of least desert in me O be 't my care my selfe a Wretch to view And no desert but death to be my due O me me most vnworthy heau'n to see So conscious am I of desert in me My eyes confirme my inward-parts confesse Of Merit my sad soules great emptinesse I feele defects my life ore-laide with woe And I poore wretch these gone doe nought else know Gold Iasper Stones are foule with Christs bloud plac't Must not deserts dregs then be more abac't When I am wrencht and drencht in Christs deere blood O let my Merits be hells burning Wood. Say I had liu'd well yet my hope might faile me But hauing liu'd ill death will sure assaile me Oh from deaths danger who shall me wretch raise Herein sweet Sauiour Thine be all the praise The hand-writing of Sinne Christ quite defac't Which tane from Satan on his Crosse he plac't If Christ Gods onely Sonne Lifes orient Sun For Me a Seruant dire death would not shun Can I a Slaue Christs death as my due claime And challenge Life because Christ death did tame Bloud should flow from my deepe torne worne heart And all my Marrow should sad teares impart I merit nought my selfe by no meanes saue Christ my Redeemers death this to me gaue O may I die e're Christs Grace through me die For in me of me for me nought haue I. O wash me well i th' Well of thy good will Lest guiltie me my guiltie deeds doe kill O may my fil●hs of flesh my life lewd base Deare Christ be folded in thy kinde embrace Satans dire Darts assault me Victor great Giue me sharpe shafts that I may Satan beat I am i th' world soyld spoyld O Iesu good Laue saue my soule i th' Brooke of thy blest blood I burne with selfe-loue O great Lord of Loue To burne with thy Loue grant grace from aboue As Lord the Spirit as Tyrant flesh I serue Oh tame the Tyrant flesh my soule preserue Lest Earth me take lest Hell me terrifie O hold me heat me with heau'ns Feruencie Let Earths fraile Ioyes to Heau'●s firme Ioyes giue place And sacred loue of good Earths Mud quite chase I hate all mine and that I be not mine I seeke thee Christ and sue to be all thi●e O let thy large thy Seamlesse coate most faire Paliate my natiue filth and leaue none bare O Lambe of God slaine from the worlds creation Thy proper-Worke be my Propitiation With thy deare Saints O Sauiour Christ I craue Me thy most Suppliant submisse seruant saue The euill of guilt and p●nishment I know This this indeed 's the Merit I can show But th' euill of guilt and paine and hells fierce flame Yea hells great Lord I know heau'ns Lord did tame This is my constant faiths confession hence I le not be forc'd by fraud or violence He which O Christ trusts not thy sole sweet Merit Shewes he 's not thine and shall not thine inherit Since all thy gracious gifts me farre surpasse Can my naught nothing merit ought alas Who 's ' ere O Christ an hundreth Pence Thee owes Vnto ten thousand Talents My debt growes Within Mee Sinne a Massie Mountaine hath Sins Mountaine to remoue Lord strength my Faith Least I O God by Deaths sting wounded be Behold my Sauiours Wounds wide-ope for mee O Thou which Bottlest vp Thy Saints Teares All Let not these of thy Seruant fruitlesse fall The Bane of Sinne my Blood