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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A56848
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The citizens flight with their re-call to which is added, Englands tears and Englands comforts / by John Quarles.
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Quarles, John, 1624-1665.
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1665
(1665)
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Wing Q122; ESTC R11199
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14,787
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34
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seem to be Unto the world if I am light in thee Oh let him grope in everlasting night That will not own thee for the chiefest Light Be thou oh Lord my Light my Guide my Way Then shall I never err nor go astray He need not fear in slippery waves to slide That is supported by so blest a Guide A guide whose goodness can as well direct In power as he in mercy can protect Be pleas'd oh Lord to bring my feeble sight From my Caemerian darkness to thy light Oh give me light enough to let me see My horrid darkness let my object be Thy mercies then shall my eclipsed eyes Have light enough to see my miseries Lord let me see my sins for sin and I Even like the Bas'lisk first discover'd die Then may I sing with a most heav'nly mirth The death of sin gives Righteousness a birth The death of sin does period all our strife The life of sin is but a dying life Thus subtle death lies lurking in our sins To catch us when we struggle in his gins But they that will avoid his crafty snare Must first discover it by faith and prayer And when discovered it may well be said The crafty traytor is himself betray'd Although he exercise his power so fast Yet he himself shall be destroy'd at last Whilst we then glorify'd shall sit and sing Death where 's thy power oh Grave where is thy sting Then why should we fond mortals fear or dread The thing that cannot hurt us if we spread Our arms to Heav'n he 'l take us by the hand And safely lead us to the promis'd Land Then shall we have no cause to fear or doubt We that come weeping in go smiling out Happy are we if we the truth imbrace Though we were born in sin we die in grace The Midwives hand even dragg'd us to our Birth Whilst we poor lumps of senseless living Earth Lie crying in her lap but know not why Yet every tear is then a prophesie The tender Infant does no sooner break The prison of the Womb but seems to speak To this effect Behold see I am come Naked and shiftless from my Mothers womb What shall I do I have nor feet nor hands But what are useless griping sorrow stands Ready to snatch me from my Mothers brest Not suffering me to take a minutes rest Is this the world that fondlings dote upon Oh that I had but power to be gone I quickly would find out a place should be Exempt from all encroaching misery This is no place of rest I may deplore My self ah lass I never cry'd before What was I born to cry strange kind of Birth Hard fate indeed all Sorrow and no Mirth Could I have kept my fleshly Cloyster still I never than had known th' effects of ill But since my Birth hath brought me to distress My patience and my prayers shall make it less But stay alas my Birth is not the cause Of my sad sorrows but the breach of Laws 'T is that 't is that which wounds me to the heart 'T is I that sinn'd 't is only I must smart 'T is only I 't is I that must prepare To bear the burthen of mine own made care Who yelds to sin except he does repent As well must yield unto the punishment If we do well we then expect reward But if we sin we sin without regard How dis-ingenious are we in our wills To goodness how ingenious in our ills These are the things for vvhich our guilty Land Is now afflicted and convicted stand 'T is but in vain to plead except it be To mercy for our quick deliverie We 're our own Goalers yet we have not power To give our selves the freedom of an hour Our turn-key sins does lock us up so fast We cannot stir we must contrive to cast Away our crimes and then we must prepare By heav'nly art to pick the lock by prayer This is the way to freedom Now I find My own mistake free mercy is so kind That neither lock nor door nor bar can be Infringers of a Converts liberty A sigh will melt the doors and break the lock Nothing opposes when by Faith we knock And if the Hammer of our zeal be strong We shall not need to give attendance long Knock and it shall be open'd seek and find There 's nothing hard unto a willing mind Run and ye shall obtain Lord give us grace That in our running we may mend our pace Oh let thy mercy with our sorrows meet And then we shall have wings as well as feet And then we shall be sure to run the race Of mercy and to take our flight in grace For when in flight or running we shall spend Our zealous strength oh Lord be thou the End The RE-CALL STrange times my Masters what unusual sight Hath terrify'd you to this sudden flight Still full of jealousies and fears no hope Of a re-settlement ah give not scope Too much to your own fancies but incline To bend your hearts to what is more Divine But stay perhaps ye 'ave lately had a sight Of your own sins and that has caus'd this flight Then fly untill your eyes of faith have found The Grand Physician that must make you sound Fly till your wings are tyr'd fly night and day Mount in your flight and in your flying pray Pray till the fervent heat of true bred zeal Shall melt your wings your melting will reveal Your penitency and Repentance brings A good Embassage from the King of Kings Faith is the souls Embassador and prayer The Embasie the Hosts of heav'n prepare His entertainment Sun and Moon and Stars Are the swift Laquies that fore-run his Wars Thus whilst in hostile manner he appears Judgment beats up the Drum for Volunteers What shall we do dear Country-men our crimes Are so out-ragious that the vvorst of times Is our expectance let 's contrive and think What 's best to do for we are at the brink Of speedy ruine and our senseless Land Is crush'd in pieces by an Iron hand An Iron hand of Justice and 't is vain T' oppose except by faith nay we shall gain More blows by opposition than I 'm sure 'T is possible for nature to endure For what is nature in her greatest povver But vveakness and that vveakness every hour Subject to sad mutations humane skill Like Josiah's Sun goes backvvard or stands still Alas vve are like bull-rushes inclin'd To shake vvith every feeble blast of vvind We have no perminancy every minit Brings a most sudden alteration in it For vvhat is man if rightly understood But a poor fabrick cemented vvith blood Daub'd o're vvith flesh vvhich one poor shovver of rain Washes avvay thus momentary vain Is silly man a perfect Coin of sorrovv Receiv'd to day and paid avvay to morrovv Although at first he vvas a noble Coine Stampt vvith that image vvhich vvas all Divine Yet by his own endeavours he defac'd Himself and by his fall