Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	woeful_a	wound_n	wound_v	16	3	7.9505	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A00460	Pietatis lachrymæ. = Teares of deuotion	Evans, William, poet.	1602 (1602)	STC 10597.5; ESTC S105560	13,060	64

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 thē 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 b●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 woūded 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

kils death that I may liue for euer Mercy sweet Iesu mercy let me win Since now I hate my selfe loath my sin This he no sooner said but I might see A man well seeming Angell-Saint to be Of comely hue of golde his pleated hayres More graue in Wisdoms booke then aged yeares His feete insteed or sandals troade the ayre And windes for wings did this Caelestiall beare His first arriuall was with this sad wight Whose sinfull soule Iustice did so affright To whome such balme for medcine he did giue As dead in sinne by it are rais'd to liue O blessed Lord that in each time of neede Sends comfort from aboue sicke soules to feede Doe not dispaire quoth he thou wofull man Doubt not but he that made all all things can Thinke not that he that breath'd into thee breath Will ought reioyce in thy soules fearefull death No wretched man thy God willes thee to know Sinnes red as scarlet he makes white as snow Seale this O Lord cleare my sinne-spotted-Den Teares beg the warrant Iesu say Amen Nemo renascitur in Christi corpore nisi prius nascatur in peccati corruptione S. August Teares Efficacy and Sinnes pardon Or Mary Magdalens Lachrymae WHen Anna wept the teares ran down amaine From forth the Flud-gates of her watry eyes When Agar wept that water she might gaine Teares sobbes sighes were onely Sacrifice When Susan falsly was condemn'd to dye Her innocent true teares did peirce the skye They had the things that they with teares required Oh who can tell the force of such true teares Wonder of wonders for to be admired Since eyes as keyes doe open mercies eares Neuer came wretch to God with true contrition But did obtaine so it were iust petition Sad humble teare shed by a soule diuine What maist thou not account of as thine owne wilt thou a kingdom why heau'ns kingdom 's thine wilt thou a seate thou hast the Lābes bright throne Wilt thou be stronge let one teare heau'n be sent And it shall doombe all hell to banishment Meate for the soule thou art strength for the sence Guerdon of Vertue Assosiate of Grace The blotter out of vice and great offence The Font that Lauers filth from foulest face The drinke and repast of the penitent Swift billow wafting to amendement Best health of new-returning innocence The Angell foode of reconsiliation Chiefe ioy of an appeased conscience And the stronge hope of soules election The Odour of the ioyes of blisse to come The best companion in the day of doombe Since teares are of such force who wold not weep And weeping weep for sin with teares an Ocean A floud within his heart who would not keep To drench the entrance of each sinfull motion Yes saies my soule Lord of my soule I will Mary that most hath need will weep her fill Close thou thine eyes ô righteous Jeremye Let not thy teares lament the faults of other My sighes my sobs my eyes my Lachrymae Shall wash my soule my soules-sinnes discouer I onely I my selfe my selfe alone Will wash in teares and my huge sinne bemone Michah why weep'st thou said the men of warre Why dost thou vs pursue is not all well Why hast thou strayed from thy home so farre Nay sigh not grieued man but quickelie tell My God quoth he whome I with care did keep Ye 'aue stolne from me and aske ye why I weep Michah with grieued heart doth much lament The losse of his forg'd-fained-golden God And shall not flouds of teares of me be spent For losse of him that was my liues abode Shall Michah waile his losse and shall not I Yes while I liue I le weepe and weeping dye The nimble Hart when he 's beset with Hound Seeing no way te'scape pale greedy death Before he feele the first life-killing wound Weeps out a groane then yeelds ayre his breath And makes the Hūters hart though hard as stone By reason of his sighes his death to moane Shall this milde Hart O Mary full of euils Sigh foorth the farewell of his liues decay And shalt not thou that art beset with Deuils That rent thy soule as rauenous dogs their pray Yes I will weep sigh sob and neuer cease Till heau'n haue mercy and my sinnes release If holy Dauid did so much lament Th' vntimely death of his rebellious Sonne If he vpon the dead corpes these words spent O losse ô Absalon ô Absalon Then needly must I weeping say each houre O losse no losse to my soules Sauiour As was the sound of Aarons siluer bell Whose sweet alarum caus'd each man to heare So Mary let thy griefes sin-weeping knell Rung by the vertue of an harty teare Sound such a lowd and dolefull pleasing ditty That it may mooue thy God thy woes to pitty Few drops men say force hard stones asunder Not by compulsion but by often fall See! stubborne stones to moyst drops yeeld ô wonder And shall not God when teares for mercy call Sinnes teares almost mee thinkes the very name Should be sufficient for to blot my shame O therefore hye thee wretched Magdalen To him that sinne hath power to forgiue Intreate him clense thy foule defyled den Desire to dye to sinne in him to liue Let not thy God from Simons boord be risen Till thou vnto thy God be trulie shriuen As an inraged colde tane in thy brest If it continue prooues but little good So will thy sinne disturber of thy rest If thou to greater sinne dost let sinne bud O therefore take thy time while time thou may For who can tell how swift time glides away Nor be not thou asham'd before them all Of thy vilde sinne to make confession But bend thy knee and bid thy salt teares call Of thy great sinne to haue remission Deferre no time no weeke no day no houre But pleade with teare best pleading Oratour Confesse I say with a true broken heart For who can tell the force of such confession Thy sinne and by thy sinne thy iust desert And for the same thy soules contrition With such confession learne for to accord For such regaines thy now lost liuing Lord. It ioyes the Saints make cleare the conscience Cancels the bond of sinne it 's hope of pardon It 's Brideler of feare best pleasing incense Heau'n opening key sweet satisfaction Best motiue moouing thy dull soule to rise From wretched earth to blessed Paradise Iesu I thirst but not for Dauids draught Not of the Cisterne of Philistines spring T is not that water though so dearely bought That any comfort to my heart can bring That which the Angels loue and Saints require That holy water doth my soule desire Open thy gate kinde hearted Pharise Oh giue me way and leaue to enter in That I may prostrate humbly on my knee Shew to my God the greatnes of my sinne On stage of blacke the Actor be my heart My soule the Chorus and my sinne the part O but saith one art not thou Magdalen