Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	die_v	live_v	sin_n	27,888	5	5.5903	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A39343	Dia poemata, poetick feet standing upon holy ground, or, Verses on certain texts of Scripture with epigrams, &c. / by E.E.	Elys, Edmund, ca. 1634-ca. 1707.	1655 (1655)	Wing E667A; ESTC R20077	18,776	70

Unlesse once more that Queen of Cities Raigne Wee 'l ne're lift up our Drooping Heads againe And they ston'd Stephen calling upon God and saying Lord Jesus receive my spirit Acts 7. 59. RApt with Hot ●eale Elias like Blest Stephen Went in a Fiery Char o● up to Heaven By this faire Gale of Holy Breath He is Arrived safely at the Port of Blisse His last words Summon Heav'n and by them He Gives Christ His Spirit for a Legacy And thus he dy'd so fill'd with th' Heavenly Dove That his Soule fled out on the wings of Love Where are the nine Luke 17 17. OF the Ten Leapers Lord the world claim 's Nine The Tenth turnes back to thee for Tithes are Thine Take Eat This is my Body Mark 14. 22. OH Lord shall we thy Glorious Body Eat Can Earth-worms relish such Celestial Meat O Blessed Lamb of God! shall we be Fed On thee whom our Dire Sins have Butchered And have we slain thee thus to Feed on thee And are we Pious Anthropophagi Stretch Faith Ô Mystick table where each guest Is b●d to Eat o' th' Master of the Feast Nay where the Meat it self Invites and where Our Bodyes Eat but soules digest the Fare Draw neer my Son to this strange Truth and fly Out of thy self by Holy Extasie Into the Bosome of the Light of Men Who here will make thee to be Born agen I come but Faintly Lord as Sick folk doe Thou find st us Meat ô find us Stomacks too Open thou mine Eyes that I may behold wondrous things out of thy Law Ps 119. 18. LOrd on my Heart write thou thy Law that I May read it o're with my Internall Eye Let the Light of thy Countenance appear To make thy Law 's mysterious Wonders Clear The Works o' Darkness in my Earthly Mind Have made mine Eyes like Moles Earth's Prisners blind Thou that mak'st th'Blind to see Help I thee pray Not putting to but wiping off the Clay Those Fogs which youthfull heat exhales doe rise Like misty clouds 'twixt Heaven and mine Eyes Shine on me Sun of Righteousnesse the night Is now far spent O Day spring bring the Light To behold wondrous things my sight 's too dull Unlesse through Him whose Name is WONDERFULL I am weary with my groaning all the night make I my bed to swim I water my Couch with my tears Psal 6 6. MY Lungs are worn with Groaning often Moans Infect my Breath my very words turn groans Drawn through that Pipe so blown with sighs my Throat Their sound is tainted with a dole full note My Panting heart breathes after some reliefe But still 't is Heavy through the weight of Griese It weeps so Stony it s own Misery Like Sorrows Emblem stupid NIOBE This Rock ●ields Teary water smote by th' Rod Of Moses Teacher our and Moses God In silent night when clos'd eyes look for rest I hear the out-cryes of a troubled breast Then Clouds of Melancholy by th'wind of Fears Blown to and fro drop into Showrs of Tears Which stream so fast as 't were to wash mine eye Polluted by beholding Vanity I make my bed to swim with Tears as tho 'T were Charons Boat tost on the Floud of woe My Body thus and soule at once want-light The one Black Fate orewhelmes the other Night Wretch that I am nothing quite vanquisheth These I wins of Darknesse but the Day of Death I see another law in my members warring against the law of my mind and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin Rom. 7. 23. AH Shall my restlesse Mind for ever be Thus Captive made by too much liberty When Lord wilt thou me bind With th'Cords of thy Soul-keeping Love That my affections may not rove But justly be confin'd My Thoughts so Froathy are as though they came Out of the Bosome of the Cyprian Dame But yet I hate my Folly And when I laugh as heretofore I doe but throw Mirth out at doore Within I 'm Melancholy My Lust submits not to my Will 's command Can my Soules Houshold thus divided stand That these Home-wars may cease Come to my Soule and speedily Confirm't in Christian Unity Come quickly Prince of peace Remember now thy Creator in the dayes of thy youth Eccle. 12. 1. THy Youthfull Heat should still Aspire To the Bright Flame of Zeals pure Fire That will no Atheist dares controll Prove Vitall Heat unto thy Soule Those Youthfull Veins That Proudly Swell Do Boile as 't were with th' Fire of Hell He whose First Yeares are spent in Evill Shewes that He is the Child o' th Devill Remember then i' th' Dayes of Youth To find the WAY and learn the TRUTH Wash thy New Soule and keep it clean With th' Well of Lifes continuall Stream Now Fortifie Thy Selfe within Maintain it ' gainst Approaching Sin Be Pious and Live Strictly 〈◊〉 so Shut up thou wilt keep out thy Foe Whilst that thy Growth in Grace and Years are even Degrees of Age are but the Steps to Heaven In Obitum VITAE On the Death of JESUS He gave up the Ghost Luke 23. 46. GAve up the Ghost how so O where could He Dislodge his Soule who had Ubiquitie Could God be Mortall and could He that made The Worlds Great Lights becom Himself a Shade O Mystick Truth which can't on Earth be Shown He Knowes it best that thinks it can't be Known Thus Darknesse set it forth by which the Skie Seem'd th' Emblem of some losty Mysterie Whilst that bold Death durst to assault the LIGHT The Heavens wore Mourning and the Day turn'd Night That we might Live so did our Jesus Die ' Sthough He Gave us His Life by Legacie But He 's Reviv'd and now has made us be Partakers of His Immortalitie So shall we find when th' whole World vanisheth Our selves Refreshed by the sleep of Death I have washed my feet how shall I defile them Cant. 5. 3. I 'Ve washt my feet ev'n in the Bloud O'th'Lamb of God How shall I them again defile I le fly Sins Guile Which drawes to those foule Paths that lead Down to the Chambers of the Dead No more I le wallow in the Mire Of Fond Desire I le ever shun Vncleannesse I Th'Worlds Sp 〈…〉 defie To shew them th'Clean way as 〈◊〉 meet Gods Word 's a Lamp unto my Feet Oh let me walk through holy Aw LORD in thy Law That undefiled still I may Be in the Way Make me to goe led by thy word I' th' Path of thy Commandments Lord. Then Herod when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men was exceeding wroth and sent forth and slew all the children c. Mat. 2. 16. THrice happy Babes wean'd from the world so soon They suck the brests of consolation They passe to Canaan through a crimson flood They die for Christ baptiz'd in their own blood O wrathful Herod were thy storms so stout To blow the Tapers of their lives quite out Could nothing but yong

half milk blood asswage The boistrous WILD-FIRE of thy dismal rage Fond man whom wrath beside himself hath hurl'd Wouldst kill the Life that 's come to save the world Most cruel Fox that would have suckt the blood Of sheep and Shepheard too the Lamb of God Lament not Rachel Moans bring no relief These brinish tears exasperate thy grief Grudge not thy Children th' happiness to die They cou'd doe nothing in this life but crie Their bitter cup they but a potion found Which purg'd their souls of flesh and made them sound I'th'body pierced by that Rabble-rout There 's made a breach to let the soul ' scape out And so they went to their long home this day The soldiers shew'd them mist themselves the WAY BACK-SLIDING OR A Spirituall Relapse A wounded spirit who can bear Prov. 18. 14. MY Heart bleeds Wounded spirit oh 'T was Sin gave me this deadly blow Sin thus Reviv'd I Die for neither Can be content to Live together We fight like two fierce Combatants that meet To get a Trophee or a Winding-sheet But must I Die indeed and can The Sinner thus Destroy the Man Self-Murtherer I am O! I Have Slaine my selfe yet would not Die Ah! I am Dead in Trespasses and Sin The Worme already feeds on me within Heale my back-slidings LORD O draw Me from the Roaring Lions Paw That tears my Soul O Jesu give Me once more Will and Pow'r to Live Cure but the wounded spirit that I bear I le fight th' Good Fight be more than Conqueror How can I do this great wickednesse and sin against God Gen. 39 9. HOld hold I will not do 't Shall I Turn Traitour to Heav'ns Majesty Shall I do this Sin ' gainst my God Such Folly will provoke his Rod. Dread my soul this Impiety Startle into an Extasie So may'st thou seem Thy Self to Flee Which is thy Greatest Enemy O! shall I sin ' gainst God whose Arm Protects me from Eternall Harm How sin ' gainst God whose gracious Eyes Dispel my Clouds of Miseries Without whose Countenance's Light My Mirth is Anguish Day is Night I will not do 't but Lord do Thou Now make me Able not to Do. Homo Lapsus She tooke of the fruit thereof and did eat and gave also to her husband with her and he did eat Gen. 3. 6. THe Vniverse at once th' Old Serpent Stung A World of Mischief in a womans Tongue She Tempts her Husband and her Noisome Breath Blasts Him and His Posterity to Death And he did Eat by th Counsell of a wife Not to Sustain but to Destroy His Life But ah He Err'd not thus alone He Fell On Us so hard He prest Us down to Hell Where we had stay'd but that th' Jesus of Men Went down Himselfe to fetch Us up agen His Mouth was made our Slaughter-House and we Being in His Loins had there our Destinie His Jawes Crush his own Happinesse and Ours We Surfeit too at that which He Devours Oh! we are Sick to Death can't Eased be But by the Fruit Born on a better Tree Which is our Living Food yea strange yet true ' ●is both our Physick and Physitian too I said of Laughter It is mad and of mirth What doth it Eccl. 2. 2. THrice Curst be Wanton Pleasure Hell 's Fine Daughter That Tickles us into such Fits of Laughter What i' st on Earth can make us be so Jolly Like Fooles in grain Laugh we at our own Folly Solace by Laughter breaks forth to Excess Out-goes its selfe and turnes to Heaviness Laughter's but the last Blaze of Mirth Full-Blown Our Joyes straight Fade from greatest come to none He Laugh no more for Mirth but if thou see Me Laugh vain World be sure I Laugh at Thee FINIS EPIGRAMS c. By E. E. Carpere vel noli nostra vel ede tua ENCOMIAST To J. C. NO Verse Grand Poet can express Thy Prayses they are Numberless Thy worth 's so Weighty 't is not meet 'T should stand upon Poetick Feet Which hence they mount to such a Height Like Poets Heads are alwayes Light But sith I am thus thrown upon Thy Muses Commendation Blots my Pen's lssue I shall place For some Black Patches in Her Face So may thy Phoebus dart His Rayes More Bright out of my Cloud of Prayse Thy Verse Runs in a Way so rare That it must needs be Singular Thy Muse so Chast thus seems alone To Bath her selfe in Helicon That Off-spring which from Her we see Was onely sure begot of Thee Mixture of Fancie she doth flye As if 't were Wits Adultery Thy Lines have such a glittering Strain ' Sthough Tagus had washt o're thy Brain Thy Sense doth with huge Myst'ries swell As 'twere Apollo's Oracle Our Judgement should dig deep to find The Hidden Treasure of thy Mind Thy Wit like Tersian Kings we see Keeps close in shew of Majestie Thy Fancy to such Height is Flown No words can reach it but thine own To shew how much a Poet can do Thou mak'st new Matter and Words too Thus in Arts most curious Schools The Best workmen make their own Tools Thus some Limners I could name Who make both Picture and its Frame Each Verse of thine with Lustre streams As though 't were one of Phoebus Beams Who e're dislikes thy Book his sight Of Judgement 's dazled at its light On a dull Poet but good Logitian IF his Verse character'd may be 'T is Laurel ' graft on P●r●h'ry●s tree He dresses his Poore Poetry I' th' rags of Old Philosophy As if indeed on Feet Poetick Hee 'd seem a true Peripatetick 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 On a Little Gentleman of Great Parts DOes Nature act the Limner's part Shaping lesse things with rarest Art Or like some Ladies does she set Her best Gems ●'th ' lesse Cabinet Great Volumes uselesse oft we see He 's Natures quaint Epitome Or else he may deserve the name Of her wittiest Epigram So small in Stature and in Age Yet learn'd he seems Minerva's Page No wonder then if she him dresse In such abundant gaudinesse Short like him are my Verses Feet O were they also like him sweet To a false-hearted Poet. THou' rt double-Tongu'd and double-Foot'd to boot Thy false Verse savours of a Cloven foot On a Gentlewoman of a Brown Complexion but Handsome Features WHilst Lovely Her Black Features prove They seem like COALS ' o th' Fire of Love On a Gentleman who Died with Lord in his Mouth WHen he had breath'd out LORD His Soul thought fit As loath to leav 't to leap forth after it On the Death of Leander THe Saying prov'd too true by his Distress That FIRE and Water are both Mercilesse But Cold Death did asswage his Hot Desire The Fatall Water serv'd to Quench His FIRE To one that gets his Living by writing Satyres THou Feed'st on thine own Brains 't is said With thy wits Tooth thou Eat'st thy Bread Nec Fonte labra prolui Caballino MY Mouldy Brains I ne're wash'd