Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	word_n	writ_n	write_v	34	3	5.9588	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A29823	Sacred poems, or, Briefe meditations, of the day in generall and of all the dayes in the weeke	Browne, Edward.; Du Bartas, Guillaume de Salluste, seigneur, 1544-1590. Sepmaine. English.; Sylvester, Josuah, 1563-1618.	1641 (1641)	Wing B5106; ESTC R12452	45,038	82

SACRED POEMS OR Briefe Meditations Of the day in generall and of all the dayes in the weeke Psalme 90.12 Teachus O Lord so to number our dayes ' that we may apply our hearts unto wisedome LONDON Printed by E. Griffin 1641. TO The Right Worshipfull his Honoured and loving Master Sir IAMES CAMBELL Knight and Senior Alderman of the Citie of London one of his Majesties Justices of peace for the said Citie Mayor of the Staple at Westminster President of the Hospitall of Saint Thomas in Southwark and Governour of the Company of Merchants trading into France EDWARD BROWNE Presenteth these fruits of his Poeticall Meditations with his daily prayers to God for increase and continuance of health and Prosperitie in this Life and eternall felicity in the life to come RIght worshipfull I have been very bold My mind to you though rashly to unfold At this time since I meane no more to write Such fruitlesse lines to come unto your sight I 'm bold to use a learned Poets skill Though farre unfit for my unlearned quill Onely to manifest my thankfull hart For what God by you on me doth impart Therefore I pray accept this little Booke Yet I acknowledge t is not worth your looke Because t is framed by unskilfull wit And yet againe the matter that 's in it Would crave inspection of iudicious eyes But that my infant Muse could not devise To frame compose and write such learned Rimes As fit your worth in these most curious times And sacred things which I here take in hand To illustrate which well to understand Declare and fully to describe the same Would ' maze the head of the most learned Braine Then how can I that am in wit so bare In any wise such holy things declare Yet what the learned from Gods word have showne I have presumed herein to make knowne To manifest how I spend my spare time In Poetry although by ragged Rime Therefore because I know you onely are My dearest friend and have of me great care I here present you this my little skill Full of Affection voyd of smallest ill And if you please to read it to the end I hope it shall not justly you offend For at the first when I began to write I did compose it for mine owne delight But when I read it I therein did see A little spark of sacred Poetry Also I have observ'd you doe of late Delight to read more then in former state This did induce me to become so bold My Talent in your lap thus to unfold Prayi g your Worship herein to passe by The faults I doe commit unwittingly For Gods great aid herein I 'll render prayse And of your courteous Candor rest alwayes Your humble and Gratefull Servant EDWARD BROWNE An Acrostick Proem To his kind and Loving Master and vertuous Lady SIR IN this small Booke though rudely I have showne According to my Art and skill Many unfruitfull fancies of my owne Each of them shewes my true good will Sith better pledges I have none Can make thy Gratitude well knowne And I doe hope you will accept this mite More for th' intent then for the thing Because I writ it onely for delight Endevouring thereby to bring Little sweet Honey to the Hive Like to the Bee to show I thrive Rashly herein I doe confesse I take A skillfull Learned Poets quill ' Cause I unlearned am nor know to make Holy Sonnets free from ill Every verse doth show my folly Little worth in Melancholy Charge mee therefore with what is writ amisse And if that any good is done My God of that the onely Authour is Because the Fountaine makes streames run Ev'n to refresh our minds and make us ●l●st Like to Gods Saints And thus I ever rest Your Faithfull and Obedient Servant EDWARD BROWNE Praesentatio Gratificationis 25. dic Martii 1640. THis day some say did our Lord God begin This Worlds round Globe to make and to c●eate And in this moneth comes in the fragrant spring Therefore the learn'd almost in every state Begin their Bookes and Reckonings on this day To shew how pretious time doth haste away Therefore I also though my learning 's small Begin this yeare to shew my thankfull heart My light grew dimme my Oyle was wasted all But Divine Bartas helped me in part For out of his None-such and holy weeke I was faine many flowers for to seek Which I Inserted in my weekly dayes And by a Prick you 'll know my sacred Pelfe Because I would not take unto my praise Anothers worth to my unlearned selfe I borrowed his to make this presentation A perfect and compleat Gratification A Prayer to God OH Holy God Thou knowst my heart is vaine My words are sinfull and my workes profane And men of Bethshemesh because they did Looke in the Ark by thee were stricken dead And Uzza but for staying it upright When it did shake thou there to death didst smite How dare I then presume to write or speake Of holy things being so vile and weake Yet I doe know by thy most sacred writ I must acknowledge the great benefit I have received from thee and thereof talke As I doe stand or goe or sit or walk Therefore I crave of thee assisting might For out of darknesse thou canst make true light To shine and blaze O be thou ever still Guider and framer of my perverse will That thy bright glory may shine in these Rimes To stirre up better wits in after-times To frame compose and make a perfect story Of temporall blessings and eternall glory 19. Psalme ult Let the words of my mouth and the Meditations of my heart be now and ever acceptable in thy sight O Lord my strength and my Redeemer A MEDITATION OF THE DAY HOw fraile and Brittle is the life of man He that lives longest liveth but a span Our pretious time so vainely we doe spend That as a day it commeth to an end The morning of our life is childish youth The noone time is our Manhood at full growth The ev'ning of our Life is froward Age And thus we walke on in our Pilgrimage The dawning of our life we waste like Boyes In foolish vanities and Idle toyes The middle of our age our strength and might Wee should enforce to serve God day and night That so at last when this lises day shall cease Wee in the Earths cold Bed may sleepe in peace Thus fatall sisters three take daily paine To spin to weave and cut mans life ●n Twaine Kind hearted Clotho spins mans life to strength Discreete Lachesis weaves its bredth and length And cruell Atropos with her sharpe knife Doth cut the Thred of his Age loathed life Loe thus this life is but a summer flower Springs up spreds bravely and sheds in an houre And Proteus-like we oft doe shift our shapes From Kids to Goates from Goates to wrinckled Apes For Mans lif 's water clos'd in Brittle Glasse Sin brought in death and

of the Hive It 's fit he should be throwne For why should he of the sweet Honey eat That the poore Bee with labour hard did get If wee doe as wee should take such great paine To prop preserve this life that 's fraile and vaine Oh how should wee then put our selves to taske To get and gaine that life which ay will last If for our bodies health wee oft will spare Our most delicious and delightfull fare Shall wee for our Soules health grudge or repine To fast from sinne or else refuse to dine If for our profit we the paines thinke small To bend and crouch to prate to cry and call Shall we thinke much unto the Lord to pray With hearty voyce and humble mind alway If the poore Smith does thinke it no great Toyle Over the fire in smoake to burne and broyle Shall wee if when the Lord thinkes good to try Our constant faith in flames refuse to dye Oh Lord I doe confesse my feet are slow My heeles are heavy and refuse to goe Into thy holy house thy word to heare And in my body I sloths Image beare My hands are Idle and my eyes are lazie My heart is dull my lips to laud thee crazie Wherefore I pray Infuse into my minde Such heav'nly grace that I may be inclinde To labour and take care for heav'nly food More then for any fading earthly Good So when this life shall cease I may be blest And live with God in a perpetuall rest Of Eating and Drinking IF that our bodyes want due food to eat How doe we labour straight to find out meat Or if with cruell thirst we be possest Till we find drinke we cannot be at rest Oh this should teach me after Grace to long Which is the Soules Refection to prolong My spirituall life and never be at rest Till with such meat and drinke my Soul 's refresht And when I doe behold the great provision For earthly Bodies from Gods loving Mission How that all creatures for our food are slaine Oh Lord thinke I If for this life that 's vaine There 's such provision in such sundry kind For life eternall to refresh the mind There 's as great plenty and as various store Of spirituall dainties If not far much m●re My daily food should be Christs holy body Which by the mouth of faith I swallow wholy To strengthen and refresh my sinfull minde That I may at the last true comfort finde My drinke should be my Saviours pretious blood Which quencheth sinfull thirst doth much good For all my sins It would wash quite away Oh this should be my bread and drink all day That at the last when as the dismall night Of death shall come in heav'n I may shine bright My Salt should be the sanctifying Grace Of Gods good sp'rit which I should ever place Upon the Table of a pious hart That I there with may season every part Of all my sinfull thoughts my words and deeds And every evill lust which in mee breeds Yea this should be the ordinary food Of my poore soule for her eternall good But yet at severall times there 's sundry dishes Of Beasts of Birds of divers Herbs and fishes In prosperous state there is the loving Hinde Who having eas'd his fellowes goes behinde The charitable Storke and temp rate Swallow The loving Prawne and pearle fish they may follow In this same messe to teach men of great might Gentle sobriety to doe poore right But if Adversity become our state The first dish is a Lambe immaculate The patient Sheepe the gall-lesse harmlesse Dove In this same messe should likewise have our love Th' industrious Bee the nimble painfull Ant The milke-white Lilly this messe should not want And many other things of precious kinde Which I can hardly bring into my minde And all to teach that in a cause that 's good It is a glorious thing to spend our blood And to beare patiently Gods chastising hand Like Iob at last more strenuously to stand At all times else there is much spirituall meate For our poore soules But I cannot repeate One halfe or quarter of this great variety It is enough if I can finde saciety In the least crum of any heavenly Grace That after I have finisht this lifes race I may in heaven keepe a continuall feast With Christ my Saviour in eternall rest Of the Night HOw soone doth darksome night succeed light day By this I know I have not long to stay In this fraile life which doth so quickly hast That as a day it selfe doth spend and wast But what need I to feare deaths gastly face For I am young and in a healthfull case I have not yet arrived to high noone For I in yeeres am scarsly thirty one Yet what of that for this same very night God may bereave mee of to morrowes light For cruell death with his impartiall knife Doth cut the thread of mans most wretched life Before that ten or twenty yeere's expir'd In this fraile life whereby I am requir'd To take due notice that ere long may be Deaths dart may make as quick dispatch of me And now because I undertake to write Of the similitude of darksome night I doe desire of God that I could tell Blinde errors paths and the dread paines of hell My selfe thereby to warne to take great heed That in blind errors wayes I may not tread For they will lead me to the darke Abysse Of dolefull horror where no comfort is And error in its selfe 's so smooth a way That the best falleth in it every day It is a maze which if we once get in Out of the same it 's hard to get agin And he that in it very often wanders Shall finde a troope of crooked sly Meanders But I will bring them into these two kindes Errors in life ignorance of mens mindes And here at first my senses are at strife For who can tell the errors of this life To such a countlesse number they doe grow That my Arithmeticke them cannot show The errors that in my poore soule are bred Doe farre exceed the haires upon my head If my sins rise to such a summe alone Who can the totall of all sins make knowne Under sev'n Captaines they doe march in fight Pride lechery and envious hatefull spite Cruell man-killing wrath beastly excesse In meat and drinke sloth greedy cov'tousnesse These are the chiefe wayes but there 's many more Crooked by-paths that leade men to the dore Of utter darkenesse for they doe delight To act their deeds i' th darke and out of sight So Hazael when he was left alone Kild Benhadad that it might not be knowne Achan did also hide his thievish pelfe Because that none should know it but himselfe Th' Adulterer waites also for twilight That he may act his sinne out of mens sight And the deceiver in his darke shop vents His broken wares that none knowes his intents And ev'ry sinner doth ev'n hate the