Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A56848
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The citizens flight with their re-call to which is added, Englands tears and Englands comforts / by John Quarles.
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Quarles, John, 1624-1665.
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1665
(1665)
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Wing Q122; ESTC R11199
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14,787
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34
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our Victory And if we chance to bleed oh then Let 's dress our wounds and to 't agen Let 's neither face nor wheel about Untill we give a perfect rout Then then we shall be sure to lie Guarded with security He prayed and the Plague ceased PRayer and the Plague are two most pow'rful things Being both derived from the King of Kings The Plague is sent to punish us but prayer Extenuates our grief and crowns our care With quick deliverance for he that sent His Plague must give us mercy to repent He heal'd those waters which in former times Receiv'd infection from the peoples Crimes Prayer is that Balm of Giliad which makes sound A heart that bleeds it self into a wound A wounded heart heav'n never can despise Wounds are best cleans'd with waters from our eyes Heark Reader heark what now my Muse resounds We may want streams but never shall want wounds Heaven bottles up our tears let us deny Our selves and then those bottles needs must fly Fly till th 'ave made more then Duc alians flood Who swims in mercy cannot drownd in blood Let 's but remember the reward of Vice The very dust being turned into Lice The croking Plague of Frogs may make us know No sin can be exempted from a woe And since we have out-sinn'd that former age We well may now expect a double rage Since multiplyed crimes so much encrease 'T is Errour not to bid adue to Peace 'T is fit oh Lord that we should know that Air Which is infected must be clear'd by prayer If not we must expect most fatal times For Judgments are still incident to crimes If we transgress Lord can we think that thou Canst look upon us with a candid brow Needs must we think out sorrow will encrease When we unto ourselves will speak no peace Oh Lord how more then desp'rate fools are we That by our sins make open vvar vvith thee What 's our Artillery vvorth our best defence Must be thy grace and our ovvn innocence Oh give us grace since sorrovv makes us flee To flutter from our selves and rest in thee But thou art angry Lord how shall we dare To came to thee that hast lio cause to spare Such obstinate offenders Lord how oft Have we abus'd thy mercies nay and scoft At petty judgments they that will not own The lest of mercies must resolve to groan Under the greatest Judgment when our sins Has made us ripe thy Judgment then begins To shake the tree which makes us rudely fall And bruise each other to our Funeral But Lord if we can make it but our care First to repent it will be thine to spare Oh Lord we must submit unto thy powers Mercy is thy delight and sin is ours What shall we say or do all we can say Is this we'ave sinned and we have no way To shun thy Judgment therefore vve must flee First from our selves oh Lord and then to thee But what are vve the better if vve fly From our ovvn selves unto an angry eye An eye that 's so consuming that one frovvn Has more than povver enough to cast us dovvn Nay cast us dovvn so lovv that vve must be In desperation of recovery But if vve pray to heaven his hand has povver To raise us in one minit of an hour And shall not then his glorious name be prais'd Oh let us think hovv Lazarus vvas rais'd Novv Reader give me liberty to make A small digression my ovvn self must take My self in hand and to the vvorld express My thanks to him vvho in despight of ill Preserv'd me as I hope to do his vvill 'T vvas so that fortune lately brought me dovvn So lovv that I vvas suuk ready to drovvn But by a povverful arm he thought it good In mercy to preserve me from the flood And shall I then despair no let my Friends Still gaze upon me Job had no bad ends Though some rash words Lord let my sorrows be Upon me till in Faith I turn to thee Oh turn me for indeed I am so weak I cannot turn my self nor can I speak Till thou unty'st my tongue which if by thee Unty'd my language shall be truly free The language of a sinner to his God Pronounc'd in zeal impedes the powerful Rod From lashing him oh Lord I truly know Thy Rod is kindness rightly us'd not woe Witness thy servant who thrice happy stood Assured that affliction was his good And since 't was so oh give me grace to see Being good for him it must be good for me Affliction like good Physick must be sure To make us sick before it makes a Cure Oh happy 's he that this grand truth can tell He 's truly sick indeed in being well Affliction 's no disgrace 't is but a sign That all the graces joyntly do combine T' administer the freeness of their will To part the grieved Patient and his ill And thus th' inclining graces gently strive To keep th' impatient patient still alive That so he may with bounty give the Fee Of humble thanks to him that set him free Suppose thou wert impris'ned with the Gour So tortur'd that thou couldst not go about Thy necessary business wouldst thou be Ungrateful to that hand that set thee free Consider wouldst thou nay consider well Think once again and having thought then tell Tell what thou thinkst me thinks I hear thee say Heav'n bless that hand that took my grief away He heal'd me shall not gratefull I advance My Thoughts and sing forth my deliverance Oh give me Davids Harp and Davids Heart Then vvill I sing his praise in every part That so at last I gravely may express Full Diapasons of my happiness And vvhen his mercies I have truely found I 'le run Division on a pleasant ground I le tune my self to such a perfect strain That every Note shall ravish every brain That vvere old Orpheus living he should say His Musick vvas but discord to my laye Needs must that song be ravishing and true When Heav'n makes th' Musick and Musician too Oh let me be vvell sounded vvith desire And thou vvilt play most svveetly on thy Lyre Thy sacred fingers vvill touch every string With such perfection that vvhilst Angels sing Man shall admire in Raptures and proclaim Perpetual Hallelujahs to thy Name FINIS
seem to be Unto the world if I am light in thee Oh let him grope in everlasting night That will not own thee for the chiefest Light Be thou oh Lord my Light my Guide my Way Then shall I never err nor go astray He need not fear in slippery waves to slide That is supported by so blest a Guide A guide whose goodness can as well direct In power as he in mercy can protect Be pleas'd oh Lord to bring my feeble sight From my Caemerian darkness to thy light Oh give me light enough to let me see My horrid darkness let my object be Thy mercies then shall my eclipsed eyes Have light enough to see my miseries Lord let me see my sins for sin and I Even like the Bas'lisk first discover'd die Then may I sing with a most heav'nly mirth The death of sin gives Righteousness a birth The death of sin does period all our strife The life of sin is but a dying life Thus subtle death lies lurking in our sins To catch us when we struggle in his gins But they that will avoid his crafty snare Must first discover it by faith and prayer And when discovered it may well be said The crafty traytor is himself betray'd Although he exercise his power so fast Yet he himself shall be destroy'd at last Whilst we then glorify'd shall sit and sing Death where 's thy power oh Grave where is thy sting Then why should we fond mortals fear or dread The thing that cannot hurt us if we spread Our arms to Heav'n he 'l take us by the hand And safely lead us to the promis'd Land Then shall we have no cause to fear or doubt We that come weeping in go smiling out Happy are we if we the truth imbrace Though we were born in sin we die in grace The Midwives hand even dragg'd us to our Birth Whilst we poor lumps of senseless living Earth Lie crying in her lap but know not why Yet every tear is then a prophesie The tender Infant does no sooner break The prison of the Womb but seems to speak To this effect Behold see I am come Naked and shiftless from my Mothers womb What shall I do I have nor feet nor hands But what are useless griping sorrow stands Ready to snatch me from my Mothers brest Not suffering me to take a minutes rest Is this the world that fondlings dote upon Oh that I had but power to be gone I quickly would find out a place should be Exempt from all encroaching misery This is no place of rest I may deplore My self ah lass I never cry'd before What was I born to cry strange kind of Birth Hard fate indeed all Sorrow and no Mirth Could I have kept my fleshly Cloyster still I never than had known th' effects of ill But since my Birth hath brought me to distress My patience and my prayers shall make it less But stay alas my Birth is not the cause Of my sad sorrows but the breach of Laws 'T is that 't is that which wounds me to the heart 'T is I that sinn'd 't is only I must smart 'T is only I 't is I that must prepare To bear the burthen of mine own made care Who yelds to sin except he does repent As well must yield unto the punishment If we do well we then expect reward But if we sin we sin without regard How dis-ingenious are we in our wills To goodness how ingenious in our ills These are the things for vvhich our guilty Land Is now afflicted and convicted stand 'T is but in vain to plead except it be To mercy for our quick deliverie We 're our own Goalers yet we have not power To give our selves the freedom of an hour Our turn-key sins does lock us up so fast We cannot stir we must contrive to cast Away our crimes and then we must prepare By heav'nly art to pick the lock by prayer This is the way to freedom Now I find My own mistake free mercy is so kind That neither lock nor door nor bar can be Infringers of a Converts liberty A sigh will melt the doors and break the lock Nothing opposes when by Faith we knock And if the Hammer of our zeal be strong We shall not need to give attendance long Knock and it shall be open'd seek and find There 's nothing hard unto a willing mind Run and ye shall obtain Lord give us grace That in our running we may mend our pace Oh let thy mercy with our sorrows meet And then we shall have wings as well as feet And then we shall be sure to run the race Of mercy and to take our flight in grace For when in flight or running we shall spend Our zealous strength oh Lord be thou the End The RE-CALL STrange times my Masters what unusual sight Hath terrify'd you to this sudden flight Still full of jealousies and fears no hope Of a re-settlement ah give not scope Too much to your own fancies but incline To bend your hearts to what is more Divine But stay perhaps ye 'ave lately had a sight Of your own sins and that has caus'd this flight Then fly untill your eyes of faith have found The Grand Physician that must make you sound Fly till your wings are tyr'd fly night and day Mount in your flight and in your flying pray Pray till the fervent heat of true bred zeal Shall melt your wings your melting will reveal Your penitency and Repentance brings A good Embassage from the King of Kings Faith is the souls Embassador and prayer The Embasie the Hosts of heav'n prepare His entertainment Sun and Moon and Stars Are the swift Laquies that fore-run his Wars Thus whilst in hostile manner he appears Judgment beats up the Drum for Volunteers What shall we do dear Country-men our crimes Are so out-ragious that the vvorst of times Is our expectance let 's contrive and think What 's best to do for we are at the brink Of speedy ruine and our senseless Land Is crush'd in pieces by an Iron hand An Iron hand of Justice and 't is vain T' oppose except by faith nay we shall gain More blows by opposition than I 'm sure 'T is possible for nature to endure For what is nature in her greatest povver But vveakness and that vveakness every hour Subject to sad mutations humane skill Like Josiah's Sun goes backvvard or stands still Alas vve are like bull-rushes inclin'd To shake vvith every feeble blast of vvind We have no perminancy every minit Brings a most sudden alteration in it For vvhat is man if rightly understood But a poor fabrick cemented vvith blood Daub'd o're vvith flesh vvhich one poor shovver of rain Washes avvay thus momentary vain Is silly man a perfect Coin of sorrovv Receiv'd to day and paid avvay to morrovv Although at first he vvas a noble Coine Stampt vvith that image vvhich vvas all Divine Yet by his own endeavours he defac'd Himself and by his fall