Selected quad for the lemma: conscience_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
conscience_n	heaven_n	hell_n	worm_n	1,015	5	11.0094	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A16772	The Passion of a discontented minde	Breton, Nicholas, 1545?-1626?; Essex, Robert Devereux, Earl of, 1566-1601.; Southwell, Robert, Saint, 1561?-1595.	1601 (1601)	STC 3679.5; ESTC S2532	6,237	26

THE PASSION of a Discontented Minde LONDON Printed by V. S. for Iohn Baily and are to be sold at his shop at the doore of the office of the vi Clarks in Chancerie lane 1601 THE PASSION of a Discontented Minde FRom silent night true Register of mones From saddest soule consum'd with deepest sins From hart quite rent with sighs heuy grones My wailing Muse her wofull worke beginnes And to the world brings tunes of sad despaire Sounding nought else but sorrow griefe and care Sorrow to see my sorrowes cause augmented And yet lesse sorrowfull were my sorrowes more Griefe that my griefe with griefe is not preuented For griefe it is must ease my grieued sore Thus griefe and sorrow care's but how to grieue For griefe and sorrow must my cares releeue The wound fresh bleeding must be stancht with teares Teares cannot come vnlesse some griefe preceed Griefes come but slacke which doth increase my feares Feares lest for want of helpe I still should bleed Do what I can to lengthen my liues breath Ifteares be wanting I shall bleed to death Thou deepest Searcher of each secret thought Infuse in me thy all-affecting grace So shall my workes to good effects be brought While I peruse my vgly sinnes a space Whose staining filth so spotted hath my soule As nought will waste but teares of inward dole O that the learned Poets of this time Who in a loue-sicke line so well indite Would not consume good wit in hatefull Rime But would with care some better subiect write For if their musicke please in earthly things Well would it sound if straind with heaunly strings But woe it is to see fond worldlings vse Who most delight in things that vainest be And without feare worke Virtues fowle abuse Scorning soules rest al true piety As if they made account neuer to parte From this fraile life the pilgrimage of smart Such is the nature of our foolish kinde When practiz'd sinne hath deeply taken roote The way to penance due is hard to finde Repentance held a thing of little boote For contrite teares soules health and angels ioy Most men account a meere phantastike toy Ill working Vse deuourer of al grace The fretting moath that wasteth soules chiefe blisse The slie close thiefe that lurkes in euery place Filching by peece-meale til the whole be his How many are deceiued by thy baite T' account their sinnes as trifles of no waight O cursed custome causing mischiefe still Too long thy craft my senses hath misse-led Too long haue I bin slaue vnto thy will Too long my soule on bitter sweetes hath fed Now surfetting with thy hell poysned cates In deepe repent her former folly hates And humbly comes with sorrow-rented hart With blubbred eies and hands vprear'd to heauen To play a poore lamenting Mawdlines part That would weepe streames of blood to be forgiuen But oh I feare mine eies are drain'd so drie That though I would yet now I cannot crie If any eie therefore can spare a teare To fill the wel-springs that must wet my cheekes O let that eie to this sad feast draw neare Refuse me not my humble soule beseekes For all the teares mine eies haue euer wept Were now too little had they all bin kept I see my sinnes arraign'd before my face I see their number passe the moathes in Sunne I see that my continuance in this place Cannot be long and all that I haue done I see the Iudge before my face hath layde At whose sterne lookes all creatures are afraide If he be iust my soule condemned is And iust he is what then may be expected But banishment from euerlasting blisse To liue like cursed Caine base vile abiected He in his rage his brothers blood did spill I more vnkinde mine owne soules life doe kill O could mine eies send trickling teares amaine Neuer to cease till my eternall night Till this eye-flood his mercy might obtaine Whome my defaults haue banisht from his sight Then could I blesse my happy time of crying But ah too soone my barren springs are drying Thrise happy sinner was that blessed Saint Who though he fell with puffe of womans blast Went forth and wept with many a bitter plaint And by his teares obtained grace at last But wretched I haue falne of mine accord Tenne thousand times against the liuing Lord. Yet cannot straine one true repentant teare To gaine the blisse from which my soule is banisht My flintie heart some sorrowing doth forbeare And from my sence all true remorce is vanisht For heart and sence are cloyd with dregs of sinne And there 's no place for Grace to enter in No place deere Lord vnlesse thy goodnesse please To pitty him that worst deserues of any And in thy tender mercy grant him ease As thou tofore hast mercy shewd to many Yet none of those doe equall me in sinne Oh how may I hope mercie then to winne The traitor Iudas heire borne to perdition Who for a trifle did his Lord betray In equall doome deserueth more remission Then my defaults can challenge any way He solde him once that once for gaine was done I oftentimes yet lesse then nothing wonne The bloody minded Iewes in furie mad Vntill on Christ their cruell rage was fed In their fell anger more compassion had Then I for whome his harmelesse blood was shed Their hellish spite within a day was past My sinfull fit doth all my life time last For eu'ry stripe that he from them did take A thousand deadly sinnes haue I committed And eu'ry wound as deepe a wound did make As did the cordes wherewith my Christ was whipped Oh hateful caitife parricide most vile Thus with my sinne his pure blood to defile O sinne first parent of mans euer woe The distance large that seuers hell and heauen Senses confounder soules chiefe ouerthrow Grafted by men not by the grafter geuen Consuming canker wasting soules chiefe treasure Onely to gaine a little trifling pleasure Happy were man if sinne had neuer bin Thrise happie now if sinne he would for sake But happier farre if for his wicked sinne He would repent and hearty sorrow make Leauing this drosse and fleshly delectation To gaine in heau'n a lasting habitation There is the place wherein all sorrowes die Where Ioy exceedes all ioyes that euer were Where Angels make continuall harmony The minde set free from care distrust or feare There all receiue all ioyfull contentation Happied by that most heau'nly contemplation Now see alas the change we make for sinne In steede of heau'n hel is become our lot For blessed Saints damned fiends we euer winne For rest and freedome lasting bondage got For Ioy content eternall loue and peace Griefe dispaire hate iarres that neuer cease The worme of conscience stil attendeth on vs Telling each houre each instant we shall die And that our sinnes cannot be parted from vs But where we are thither they likewise flie Still vrging this that death wee haue deserued Because we fled from