Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A00460
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Pietatis lachrymæ. = Teares of deuotion
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Evans, William, poet.
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1602
(1602)
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STC 10597.5; ESTC S105560
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13,060
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64
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saies his wounds makes sinners free His bloud the key that lets them enter in O then my God make this world hell to me That I in heau'n may see all this with thee Christes Crowne is sharpe THe cruel thornes with w c our Lord was crowned Were sorely sharpe that shed his sacred blood A gratious loue in glorious life renowned To hurt it selfe to doe his seruants good But while those points did pricke his sacred head Sinne death and Sathan all were deadly wounded O blessed Christ that so my comforts bred As by thy death both death and hell confounded Blest were the drops of so deuine a nature As shed by sinners were the death of sin And blessed Christ that so didst blesse thy creature As by thy death didst his best life begin Yet let me weepe to see his head so bleeding That is my heart and spirits onely feeding Doloris finis gaudium MY heauy soule haue patience with thy selfe The tydes wil turne the ebbe may haule a flow A Ship sometime may run vpon the shelfe And yet be saued from her ouer-throw Say that thy griefes doe gripe thee euery houre While that thy life is neere the point to dye And weakned nature hardly hath the power To beare the burthen of thy miserie Yet doe thou know thy sinfull soule deserueth Farre greater death if Iustice doe thee right And know withall that mercie still preserueth A Sunney blessing for the faithfull sight Where thou shalt finde that all the worlds annoy Is farre vnworthy of the smallest ioy Benedictus deus in eternum SOme wicked spirit thought my heart accurst Because it saw how I was woe begon me Sorrow and death and hell did seeke their worst With all their forces all to fall vpon me Sorrow did locke my heart with many a sob And brought my life vnto the doore of death And when death saw how my poore hart did throb He shew'd the horrour of the hell beneath But when my God did in his mercie see My soule besiedged thus on euery side With one faire looke he made their forces flye Nor death nor hell nor sorrow durst abide But left my soule in such a blessed case By mercies liuing loue to be relieued That I must sing in glory of his grace That helpt my soule when it was so agreeued The sinful soules sob SOrrow and Sinne to my heart are no wonder Since sinne and sorrow rent my heart asunder My soule in sinne hath long time had aboad While sorrow wept that I offended God My Sinne I must confesse is much more great Then is the sorrow of my grieued heart Yet sorrow willes me humbly to intreate For mercie to asswage my wofull smart Therefore to thee that canst throw downe to hell And after fetch into the Heau'n of blisse To thee in whome sweet mercy still doth dwell In whom all comfort was shall be and is To thee a wretched soule nigh drown'd in sinne With sorrow weepes that he may mercy win Laqueus contritus est SInne and dispaire both at a banquet met And in their feasting that they might haue ioy My yeelding soule in hast from me they fet And made it drunke and drown'd it in annoy But tasting of sinnes cheare I wot full well Dispaire that neuer wisht the soule but harme Had well nigh brought my life to that same hell Where sins more thick theÌ„ Bees in summer swarme Which when I did perceiue all woe begon me With bleeding heart I looked vp on high And God in mercy so did looke vpon me And to my griefe such medicine did apply That bâ—ing heal'd of my dispayring sinne I might by faith his gratious fauour winne Par nulla figura dolori IF I were set to seeke out sorrows muses And all at once were come to waite vpon me With all the griefe that greatest sorrow vses To shew the world how I am woe begon me If all the world had brought their woes together And all set downe in their extreamest kinde And all the kinds had brought their crosses hether To shew the death of a tormented minde If all the figures that the Poets faine Should in their nature truely be expressed And euery sorrow in a sun drie vaine Could shew the horror of a heart distressed If these and more then euer yet were knowne To crucifie a poore vnhappie creature In pleasures spirit wholy ouerthrowne Could shew the pride of sorrow in her nature I thinke they all would fall out short in fine To sound but where the depth of my distresse And leaue this heart and wofull soule of mine Vnto the comfort of the comfortlesse But since I see God onely knowes my griefe Which is too great for any man to gesse And in his mercie liues my soules reliefe And he alone can giue my heart redresse I will beseech his Maiestie deuine In mercies height the hope of happines For to receiue this humble soule of mine And bring my heart out of this heauines Non est Deus sicut noster AT Christes Ascention heau'ns-vast wombe did wonder whilst Angels harts did bleed cleaue a sunder Immortal passions so did wound and paine them That all amort they sit and thus complaine them O thou bright morning star thou glories glory Make vs partakers of a wofull story By thee we know sin death hell confounded But cannot shew how wisdom came thus wouÌ„ded Then gan the spirit of that be-slaughtered lambe To tell how by those wounds his goodnes came Amid the Center of an earthly Cell Accompanied with friends I long did dwell At length they wound bring me to my end And he that most did hurt was most my friend Life of all liues they kil'd and put to paine My harme their good sowre sweet my losse their gaine O fountaine of all mercy mercies wonder What heart can heare this and not burst asunder T was I woe's me therefore that caus'd thine end Whom thou in mercie dost accompt a friend Within the closure of some obscure Cell My soule be-murdering-Lord till death shal dwel There shall it weeping sit and read this story Till heau'n assume it for to see thy glorie A passion LEt me goe seeke some for-lorne place Where nothing liues but sorrows loue Where I may sit and waile my case Vnto the blessed heau'ns aboue For to the world to tell my woes It were a breath but spent in vaine A labour that my soule might lose Or with a sigh returne againe For all the thoughts of pitties eye On earth are buried long agoe And all the waies of miserie Are to dispaire or dye in woe For vertue she that heauenlie Queene That onelie keeps the soule a crowne Whose faith hath in her fauours been Though heere by fortune beaten downe Euen she is forc'd to keepe her seate Among the Angels blessed armes Because she sees the world intreate Her seruants with such wicked harmes And since I doe so plainlie see That in the world there is no place For vetue pitty not for me Nor any in my heauie case Let me goe seeke some sorrie Caue With sorrowes loue to sit alone And like a Ghoast within the graue Vnto the heau'ns to make my mone For in the heau'ns I know he is Who hath subdu'd the power of hell And in that heauenly hand of his Doth my assured comfort dwell Where Vertue Mercy Loue and I Shall liue together in such ioy As though vnto the world I dye My soule shall thinke of no annoy His farewell to the world VAine world adew since vaine is thy best pleasure Thy selfe a toy In better things then thine consistes my treasure In heau'n's my ioy A ioy that doth detest Such pleasing goods As sorrow brings the heart in flowing floods Thy baites are sweet at first yet sower in end From heau'n they part A Bee which hath a sting that doth offend And wound the heart A Friend that sees a life all woe begon it And wisheth ten times more to fall vpon it Thy best things are in fine a world of woe A sincke of ill A garden where bad weedes are set to grow The soule to kill Thy Paradice a dungeon layle or hell Where light in darke for euermore doth dwell Thy glorie hath no Sun-shine but a mist To blinde the eye And therefore let them loue thee they that list So will not I. I seeke a glorie that is all aboue Sweet Iesu I seeke thee my truest loue When most thou smilest then thou most dost frowne And seek'st to kill Thou dost aduance to honour then pull'st downe Such is thy will Sing in the sweetest key thou canst deuise While I with wisdomes wit stop eares and eyes FINIS
Notorious for thy sinne in this our Citty Yes sure I am will ye not therefore open May not a sinners teares mooue ye to pitty Whos 's that saith Christ Mary shews her repentance O let her in thus mercy giues me entrance Woman come foorth saith he stand not behinde May I a wretch O Lord obtaine such fauour Mercy to penitents is alway kinde O kinde Phisition say on my Sauiour For neuer shall these teares of me be spent Till thou bid rise sinne pardon'd penitent Pardon thou hast be free from Sathans den Arise and sinne no more good God Amen The soules comfort in Middest of affliction Or the penitent theefes passion TO whom shal death th' Almighties Trumpeter Seeme sowerie sharpe fell-cruell-bitter paine When meager death is but as messenger To tell our soules that we with God shall raigne Come gentle death since t is my Sauiours will O blessed will to dye I am not sorry Seaze on an Essence which thou canst not kill Whilst Angels waft it to the place of glory He that is framer of the earth and heauen Telles me that these my now fraile mortall eyes So soone as soule from body is bereauen Shall see heauens Pharus blessed-Paradise This day my soule mercy infusing grace O triple happie soule t' obtaine such fauour In Angels blisse shall see him face to face That did descend from heau'n to be my Sauiour This day my life shall dye in blisse to raigne This day I shall be free'd from euery foe This day I dye a death to liue againe This day I cease to weepe and laugh at woe This day 's the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of an eternall raigne And the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of my now dying paine Since it is so sweet death come let me dye Whilst mercy shuts the windows of mine eye Deus mihi totum in toto LEt wicked worldlings fall away from God No earthlie crosse shall cause my soule to feare Afflictions staffe and persecutions rod True patience willes me and I well can beare Who would not suffer heere a little paine And dye to liue that he with God may raigne If I of friends and countrie be neglected Yet ere I loose my faith I le beg my bread He that from youth hath alway me protected From his foode-giuing hand shall I be fed He keeps the fragments of a feast in store Where mercy willes me knock at bounties doore If poorest roofe disdaine to couer me Ny building 's not on earth but all on hye Meane while the Dens and Rock shal succour me And stubborne earth shall welcome miserie Better it is mong Wolues to haue aboad Then liue in house and not to liue in God If I with prisons chaine fast fettred be My persecutions chaine shall prooue a crowne If all the world oppose it selfe at me And death the worst to feare begin to frowne Yet he that for my life his life did giue Will kâ—â—â— my death that I with him may liue What though no 〈◊〉 see me buried T is not a toombe that I desire to haue What bootes that earth to earth be carried My blisse is not contained in a graue And for an vnction to this bitter gall Heau'n couers him that hath no buriall Heare me sweet Iesu heare mee when I call Since thou to my poore soule art all in all Mors Christi mihi vita TH' Eternall Father guider of the heauen To his all-glorious and immortall Hoast No other licence to them hath he giuen But that their garlands and their crownes of cost While heau'nly quiers doe sing as it is meete Be laid at his great Sonnes immortall feete Yet see the malice and the crueltie Of these hard-hearted and inhumaine men With purple cloth aye me in mockerie They cloath the flesh of this great God and then To him they bend the knee their sinne the more Whom Angels worship the Saints adore See see from his deepe wounds out issues bloud Dying the purple Dye more perfect red Woe 's me that for my sin should spring that floud Great was his loue that so my comfort bred Dye oh my God make purple my hard heart So shall it cloath thy wounds my sinne thy 〈◊〉 Ego sum tus causa 〈◊〉 Diues in his passion RIch men laugh at me your fill Since to laugh it is your will Make a iest of me and hell Till ye buy that I would sell. Christ did tell ye but in vaine Of my torture and my paine I as ye at hell did smile Sathan so did me beguile Were I now to liue againe Life should be a liuing paine Ye should laugh but I would weepe I would wake when ye should sleepe Ye should not relieue the poore I would so bestowe my store You not I should hunt for hell I not ye with God would dwell But ô my soule plung'd in paine Doe not Eccho thus in vaine Worldlings laugh to heare thee moane Harder hearts then hardest stone For the raine makes flintes to mourne When that Athiests teares doe scorne But those scorners all shall dye And hell laugh when they shall crye Lazarus in his happines POore men if yee beggers be Learne to beare your Crosse of me Crosses are the way to blisse VVhere true patience leader is Patience poore mens treasure chiefe That doth giue the soule reliefe Such reliefe as rich men want That the beggers almes is scant Ioy in heart ye poorest soules Whom the hand of heau'n inrowles In the care of worldlings crosse VVhile the rich dye with their drosse Grieue not that the dogs doe licke yee Hellish stings shall neuer pricke yee Let them sing while ye doe crye Ye shall liue when they shall dye Ye shall liue in endles ioyes They liue dying in annoyes They in soule tormented sore Ye reioycing euermore Doe but then the difference see That twixt rich and poore may be They with Diues lye in hell Ye with me in heauen shall dwell A passion of the soules desire OH had I wings to flye vnto that place Where Hierarches Angels praise my God That I might taste of that eternall grace That frees the faithfull from afflictions rod. Then should I heare the Cherubins that sing To God all holie holie Sanctities Then I my selfe vnto my God and King Should humbly tune their heau'nlie vnities Then should I be a free man of that Cittie The gates whereof are pearle the barres of golde The Lamps no starres but glories Maiestie And Saints the soules that there their freedom hold Then should I see the Prophets in their blisse And the Apostles seated on bright thrones Then should I see that world where no woe is While Angels hands do crowne the Martirs grones Then should I see the Virgins freed from teares Crown'd in the heauens for holy Chastitie Blest should I see those babes whose tender yeares Aboad the stinge of sharpest crueltie Then should I see that now I cannot see Through the darke hindrance of my deadlie sinne Yet mercie