Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	bear_v	die_v	sin_n	6,507	5	5.1003	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A16668	A new spring shadovved in sundry pithie poems. Musophilus	Brathwaite, Richard, 1588?-1673.	1619 (1619)	STC 3574; ESTC S106131	13,301	40

of error we are in If there be Hell why doe we liue on earth As if there were none yea if common sense Tells vs a Pilgrimage hath no true mirth Where this day we are he ere next calls vs hence Why liue we heere as if we nere should forth From this vast Grate of griefe our residence Is short on Earth then let vs hasten hence Th'vnseemliest Obiect Mans eye can behold Is Age attended on by nought but yeares Where his gray-hayres may tell vs he is old But there 's no other signe of Age appeares Wherefore his Age seemes as a Tale that 's told His life a Medley of desires and feares Desire of life to welcome Death with teares What is this curious modell Man whose shape Diuinely featured includes all faire In Him as in her Abstract but an Ape That imitates all formes in habite haire Carriage of Body and whats'ere may make His vanity admir'd now heere now there Distasting most the tast of 's Country ayre If Man consist of Body and of Soule And that the being of the first relies Vpon the latter why should it controule The first by which it liues or why despise Or striue to make her chiefest Beauty foule With her seducing trifling vanities Which presse the Soule so low it cannot rise That Know thy selfe deriued her first birth And Pettigree from Heauen and did appeare On Earth to make it seeme an heauenly Earth But see what chanc'd Men so besotted were Of their defectiue Knowledge as a dearth Fell amongst humble men learning to erre And fall by Pride as did that a Lucifer O let vs then confesse as well wee may Our Knowledge it is nothing and the good That 's in vs is not ours nor can we say Ought proper ours saue Sin so rank's the blood Of our corrupted Nature where each day Paints out our frailety which if vnderstood Man has no cause at all for to be proud If euery Euen were as it ought to be It should keepe count of all the day that 's past Asking our sin-surcharged soule what she Hath done which reckning should be neuer rac't Out of the Table of our Memory But haue it so o're all our actions plac't That th' forme we haue may neuer be defac'd If every houre we spend must beare record When we shall summon'd be how carefull should Man be of euery worke and euery word Done to be done or spoke for how shall mould Clay and corruption stand against the Lord On whom wee all are truely said to hold Seeing the crimes we act so manifold Where each Mans Conscience shall his Tophet be His Sinnes his Testates and his last farewell To Earth his entrance into misery Where his owne Soule appeares his onely Hell Th' Companions that attends him doubts and feares Mouing Despaire to sound her larum Bell To warne him to the place where he must dwell Mansion of horror where the quenchles fire Burns without ceasing where the gnawing worme Eates without resting and that wofull hire Death neuer dead though dying where the forme Of all confusion formeth her retire Thrice happy he if he had neere beene borne That 's markt to come to such a place forlorne No Life but shade of Life for what is Life But a continuall Death wherein we die Each day a little where dissention strife Restlesse Ambition Treason Periury Oppression violence bee onely rife Where outward obiects daze the inward eye And ill 's made good by sinnes impunity Liue may I neither to my selfe nor Time Since Time-obseruers now proue Parasites But to make streight that great accompt of mine After so many dayes so many nights Past in neglect so may my Soule in fine Possesse then happy she those pure delights Which doe include of comforts infinites Muse doe I much when I doe heare men call Whether Experience tell them or their Art Some yeares more safe some Climactericall Where if we looke into our humane part In houres dayes yeeres we shall perceiue how all Summon alike Deaths parley to our heart From whom to get we striue but cannot start I haue long sought that Essence of my being A faithfull friend and I haue found in Some A veine of protestation well agreeing With Friend if Christian but when I should come To take a surer triall he was fleeing Prouing a Summer Swallow this 's my doome My friend 's in Heauen on Earth he has no roome When I obserue Earth's as a Ball in th' ayre I askt my selfe what may I seeme to be That liues as if I had my Mansion there Planting my hopes on mutability And I doe finde who otherwise liues heere Then as a forraigne Trauellor though hee Seeme wise to some hee seemes a foole to me This House I liue in like a shaking frame Threatens each day a fall yet I secure Where I must goe to or from whence I came Liue so as if this Building would endure And to eternity extend her name But 'lasse how weake am I seeming most sure While sin wounds deepe and doth despaire of cure Some farre lesse wise then curious doe delight To glaze their windowes with Perspectiue glasse Presenting sundry obiects to the sight As Hils Dales Seas and whatsoere shall passe Within an equall distance but the light Which the Bay-windore of my Mansion has Hath no such various Prospect though it might But opens wide that she may see what 's right May Goodnesse be the Abstract of my Fayre My best aduice Direction of the word May Worlds-care be still my least of care May my Selfe-loue be now to loue the Lord May I obserue a time to spend to spare Not taking thought to waste or how to hoard But in expence to keepe me on euen board Rich had I rather then accounted be Sayes the Worldling But I am not of his minde For my Account is dearer vnto me Then this same Barke of man this outward rinde Yet Rich are men of most account we see It 's true indeed wee by experience finde Oft goes the Cart before the Horse behinde Arise to iudgement is a doome of feare To Flesh for why shee could contented be To build her selfe a Tabernacle heere Liuing to bee her owne posterity But th' Soule mounts vpward to an higher Sphere Striuing to breake from her captiuity Nor can shee ioy till shee 's at liberty Her Nunc dimittis is her cheerefulst Song Her passage th'entrance to a safe repose Her comfort this though her restraint was long Griefes past be counterpoiz'd with present ioyes Her hope that she shall make her party strong Being both rid of her perfidious foes And sphered there where sacred comfort flowes In our first Birth we shrike in death we sigh Thus discontent is Man in birth and death In Birth we shrike because affliction 's nigh In Death we sigh sigh sith wee cannot breath Thus both in Death and Birth there 's misery And more in Death then Birth if so his wreath Of glory be reduc'd