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death_n life_n punishment_n sin_n 9,230 5 4.9399 4 true
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A86824 Poems by John Hall. Hall, John, 1627-1656.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650, engraver. 1647 (1647) Wing H355; Thomason E1166_1*; ESTC R202359 30,136 122

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Still to the Center dost thou roule When up to Heaven thou shouldst aspire Did not thy Jailour flesh deny The freedome for to feed thine owne insatiate eye How might thou let it surfet here On choicest glories how it might Thick flowing globes of splendor beare And triumph in its native light How t' would hereafter sleep disdaine The glorious Sun of righteousnesse uprise againe O who so stupid that would not Resolve to Atoms for to play 'Mong th' golden streamers he shall shut While he prolongs one endlesse day How small three evenings darkenesse be Compared once with measurelesse Eternity See how the joyous Clouds make way And put a ruddy brightnesse on How they their silken fleeces lay For him to mount to Heaven upon Where he may in full glory shine Whose presence made before a Heaven of Palestine That lovely brow that was before Drown'd in a flood of Crimson sweat Is now with brightnesse guilded ore And all with burnisht flames beset Him whom his drowsy Sonnes did leave Sleeplesse Aeriall Legions triumph to receive This innocent Columbine he That was the marke of rage before O cannot now admired be But still admired still needs more Who would not stand amaz'd to see Fraile flesh become the garment of Divinity Appeare no more proud Olivet In tawney olives from this time Be all with purple vines beset The sprig of Jesse from thee did climbe Up to the Skies and spread those boughs Whereon lifes grapes those Paradisean clusters growes Why stare you curious gazers so No Eye can reach his Journeys end Hee 'l pierce the rouling Concave through And that expanded Fabrick rend Then hee 's at home he was before A Pilgrime while he footed this round nothing ore If then his nimble feet could make A pavement of the quivering streame And cause those powerfull Spirits quake That feare not any thing but him Now can and will he turne to joyes Your feares and or disarme or turne your enemies He is not lost though wafted hence He 's with you darlings of his love Hee 's the supreame Intelligence That all the little Orbs will move He is the head it cannot be Members can perish where ther 's such a head as he A head compos'd of Majesty Wer 't not by mercy all possest From which such charming glances fly As striking vengeance can arrest From which such powerfull frowns arise As can strike palsies in the Earth and headach in the Skies What did you thinke he could remaine Disguis'd in such an inch of land That convex cannot him containe Though spun out by his owne right hand What did you thinke that though he lay Enterr'd a while the Earth might swallow such a prey That very dying did restore Banisht life to rotting men And fetcht back breath that fled before Into their nostrils once againe That very death gave life to all And t' all mankind recovery of their Fathers fall Suppose yee that the fatall tree That happiest worst of punshiments Did punish such a sinlesse he Or shame him that was excellence No no the crime doth ever state The punishment and he sinne could not act but hate Thought yee that streame did flow in vaine That issued from his opend side Your soules were foule yet every staine By these pure drops were purified He was he freely prodigall To spend all 's blood for some when some might have sav'd all Harke harke what melody what choice Of sweetest Aires of charming sounds Heaven seemes all turn'd into a voice Heare what loud shreeking joy rebounds The very Windes now whistle joy And make Hosannas of the former crucifie The Ermine THe Ermine rather chose to die A Martyr of its purity Then that one uncouth soile should staine It 's hitherto preserved skin And thus resolv'd she thinkes it good To write her whitenesse in her blood But I had rather die then e're Continue from my foulenesse cleere Nay I suppose by that I live That onely doth destruction give Mad-man I am I turne mine Eye On every side but what doth lie Within I can no better finde Then if I ever had been blind Is this the reason thou dost claime Thy sole prerogative to frame Engines againe thy selfe O fly Thy selfe as greatest enemy And thinke thou sometimes life wilt get By a secure contemning it Jude 14.15 The Lord commeth with ten thousand of his Saints to execute judgement upon all I Heare and tremble Lord what shall I doe T' avoid thy anger whether shall I goe What shall I scale the Mountaines 'las they be Farre lesse then Atoms if compar'd with thee What shall I strive to get my selfe a Tombe Within the greedy Oceans swelling Wombe Shall I dive into Rockes where shall I flie The sure discovery of thy peircing Eye Alas I know not though with many a teare In Hell they mone thy absence thou art there Thou art on Earth and well observest all The actions acted on this massie Ball And when thou look'st on mine what can I say I dare not stand nor can I run away Thine eyes are pure and cannot looke upon And what else Lord am I Corruption Thou hatest sinnes and if thou once begin To cast me in the Scales I all am sinne Thou still continu'st one O Lord I range In various formes of crimes and love my change Lord thou that mad'st me bid'st I should present My Heart unto thee O see how 't is rent By various Monsters see how fastly held How stubornely they doe deny to yeild How shall I stand when that thou shalt be hurl'd On Cloudes in robes of fire to Judge the world Usher'd with golden Legions in thine Eye Carrying an all-enraged Majesty That shall the Earth into a Palsie stroke And make the Clouds sigh out themselves in smoake How can I stand yes Lord I may although Thou beest the Judge thou art a party too Thou sufferest for these faults for which thou shall Arraigne me Lord thou sufferest for them all They are not mine at all these wounds of thine That on thy glorious side so brightly shine Seal'd me a pardon in those wounds th' are hid And in that side of thine th' are buried Lord smile againe upon us which what grace Doth mercy sit enthroniz'd on thy face How did that scarlet sweat become thee when That sweat did wash away the filth of men How did those peevish thornes adorne thy brow Each thorne more richly then a Gem did glow Yet by those thornes Lord how thy love abounds Are we poore wormes made capable of Crownes Come so to Judgement Lord th' Apostles shall No more into their drowsy slumber fall But stand and hearken how the Judge shall say Come come my Lambes to Ioy come come away Gen. 24. ver. 63. Quò egressus Isaac ad meditandum in agro c. Juvenis beate magne tot Regum parens Faecunde tot patrum pater Tot Nationum origo tot vatum fides Tot Antesignane Heroum Sicne is in agros jam renidentes