Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	end_n	good_a	life_n	9,382	5	4.8333	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
B10246	A coat of divers colours fit for Joseph. Or, Piety in variety. By Jos. W. gentleman.	W., Jos., Gentleman.	1656 (1656)	Wing W76A; ESTC R186105	13,876	40

With Angels I will then rejoyce in time of all Eternity When thou admits my Soule and Voyce to Sing and see the Trinity A Conscience quiet not good LOrd keep me from a Conscience free from griefe That ever liv'd in joy and worldly pleasure But never sorrow felt untill the Death To sighe for sin he never took the leisure Yet he presumes Gods mercy is so great He shall be sav'd though he doe not intreat A Conscience never quiet yet good LOrd look upon a Soule that sighes for sinne And mournes in secret with a heart sincere That Sathan seeks to catch within his Ginne But hath no power to quench his godly feare He grieves and waits when God will comfort send And so at length obtaines his wished end A Conscience neither good nor quiet OWofull wretch whose Soule is never quiet Whose Conscience fryes him in a fiery Flame Yet drinks and drabs sweares and feasts with ryot Till Deaths dart strike him in a mortall vaine Then cryes and cries will this paine last for ever VVhen will it end A Voyce doth Answer Never A Conscience quiet and good O Happy he whose Conscience telleth him That goodly mones hath wrought effectuall Faith Beleeves Christs blood hath wash'd away his sin That his deep wound appeas'd his Fathers wrath And doth desire and Pray and Pray againe That never sin have power in him to raigne God guard and watch my thoughts from steps and falls For sinners feet stand oft one tottering balls No help in Man Whom have I in Heaven but thee and there is none upon Earth that I desire besides thee Psal 73.25 VVHen I collect all faculties I have I can find nought but worthles worth in man No power at all he hath himselfe to save his Birth is painefull and his Life a span As fraile as Grasse let him doe what he can Who puts his trust in any Man at all Leanes on a Reed and 's sure to catch a fall Take Man alone as meerly he is Man for help and counsell he is far to seek In his Conceit he thinketh now and than that every words a sentence he doth speak And to excell he oft his braines doth breake Great Counsels now that hath the ratest wits Their witty wisedome proves but foolish fits Now Man I leave thee for thou art but vaine unlesse a Power from Heaven doe thee direct For by that Power thou knowledge may obtaine to know thy selfe and God for to affect To him alone give love and true respect VVhom have I then in Heaven and Earth but thee For all things else are fraile and vanity The Vanity of the World THree things there are that 's counted faults in men And worldlings hates them to the very Death Honour offered Honour VVrongs Fashions and refused again And VVrongs received yet cannot urge the breath Counts worldly Fashions like an Aspen Leafe VVhom these affect the worldling holds as Fooles And fit to live obscurely like to Owles The first they hold a basenesse in the Spirit The second sencolesse a food or stupid humour The third a scorne to time deserves no merit And thus poor Soules they bide the worlds rumour Thus worldlings love that is the worlds consumer Thou Wretch thou 〈◊〉 thou 〈◊〉 hast lost thy sight Thou art so blind thou knowes not Day from Night The first doth hold with God a true content The second hath a care to live secure The third holds Fashions vaine and follies vent For Fashions are for sickle fooles a lure Fooles and Fashions are tyed together sure Observe these signes you shall perceive it plaine These three things good it is the world that 's vaine My Lent Labour or Prayers or Meditations O Lord set thou my heart upright Psal 119.52 and let my Meditations be To Pray to thee both Day and Night for to obtaine Eternity And that with Christ I may ascend Io. 20.17 Into those joyes that never end Teach me O Lord in Faith to Pray Psal 86.11 with holy feare and godly groanes That my poor soule may finde the way with sighes and sobbs and mourning moanes My glorious Fathers Face to see Psal 17.15 And sing Songs with felicity Deare loving Father doe not frowne Psal 30.7 but in thy mercy look on me Least my sad sins doe sinke me downe and so I lose Eternity But still in Christ I put my trust Ioh. 3.26 That he will place me with the just It was my 〈…〉 Death It was my sinnes that made him Dye It was my sinnes that stopt his breath It was my sinnes that cruelly Did put the Lord of Life to paine But I was sav'd 1 Pet. 2.2 when he was slaine It was his Love Ioh. 15.13 not my deseart It was his Love that set me free For this his Love I give my heart It was his owne he gave it me My heart Prov. 23.26 P● 15.28 Job 19.30 O Lord thou dost require Accept it then whole and intire I thanke the Lord for this thy Death I thanke the Lord that thus did Dye I thanke the Lord that lost thy breath I thanke the Lord Luke 23.46 Psal 31.4.5 that patiently Upon the Crosse did pay my debt And broak the Coards of Sathans Net Thus for my Soule Lord I doe pleat Now for my Body I intreat My wants good God for to supply And Cure thy servants mallady I need not tell Mat. 6.11 thou knowes my need Give me my God my Dayly Bread Cherish no Sinne. IF Pagan Princes Heb. 12.1 for their Olympian sports did spare no cost vaine-glory to obtaine By Running Tilting and Games of divers sorts feeding the fancies of a franticke braine Found ought they thought their foolish fits would hinder Though nee'r so rich would burne it to a Sinder If these from whom was hid all saving grace would burne to nought all that their pleasures crost What must we leave that runs a godly Race but all our sinnes fast tyed to a Post Let none be lost no not in thy desire But freely throw them Post and all in th' fire O thou my Soule a blessed Race to runne throw every weight away that troubleth thee If fleshly Lusts seeke thee to overcome 1 Ep. ●●● 2.11 bid it avoyde I hate thy company Thou art a weight that I must throw away God give me grace to make it good I Pray Still I am bound to make all speed I can to run my Course with patience to the end More stops I find so vaine a thing is Man lusts of my Eyes my Conscience doth offend They spie strange objects that sets my heart a flote For to desire things farre above my lot And now my heart begins to mount aloft the world is all too little to content it It feeds on dainties lyes on pillowes soft thus wealth breeds woe unlesse a man repent it Though all these lusts I finde in me too rife Good Lord defend me from the pride of