Selected quad for the lemma: enemy_n
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A32308
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Divine passions piously and pathetically expressed in three severall bookes / written and composed for private consolation ... by Edward Calver.
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Calver, Edward, fl. 1649.
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1643
(1643)
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Wing C313; ESTC R28545
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68,451
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138
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not thou thy cost Though we be stray'd yet do not see us lost The prodigall Son FAther dear Father I would utter fain But feare doth that word Father dear restrain Father I faine would have my grievance shown But oh I am asham'd to make it known But it is fit I should confesse the same But thou canst take no pleasure in my shame Thy greatnesse doth in robes of glory shine Then canst thou looke upon such raggs as mine But why should I these troubled Seas propound I sayling in whose surges must be drownd Why feare I thus the fetters which inthrall me When thus my Father doth from prison call me Thy call deare Father cannot but suffice To shake off all my shackls bolts and tyes Then at thy call which thus doth call for speed I come to meet thee trusting to be freed The pitifull Father VVElcome my Son thrice welcome i' st not meet Thou shouldst bee welcom'd with imbraces sweet Thou who wert lost and now art found remain Thou who wert dead and art alive againe Long have I long'd for this thy safe return Whereat my bowells of compassion yern Why shak'st thou then why blushest being poore Thy feare is past thou shalt have raggs no more Revive my Son be cheerfull then my child And cease thy sorrowes I am reconcil'd Oh let those teares be taken from thine eyes They stir the Fountaine where compassion lyes Come tast my dainties I have choicest fare And sweetest musick to delight thy eare This is my pleasure I will have it done In spite of envy for thou art my Son The Authors Epigram THou Father of all fatherly respects Whose pittie this all parents thus directs What duty then for this thy kindnesse shown Is due to thee from children of thine own Most happy children happy we indeed Whose Fathers kindnes doth thus far exceed Who when our follies in our faces flying Returns us weeping scekes to still our crying Oh then how silly sensles I may say Are we if we from such a Father stray Can all the worth can in the world appear Make us set light a Fathers love so dear But then shall trifles shall meer painted toyes Shadowes of pleasures and but dreames of joyes Or ought detaine us that shall labour for it From such a Father let us Sons abhor it Let us not seeking lose our selves to gain Such husks abroad and may at home have graine An Epitome FAther I have offended but alas Shame stops my voice here will not let it passe Son cease thy sorrow let my joyes appease thee T is not thy teares but thy return that please me Father but canst thou thus be pleas'd with me Who have thus sin'd both against heav'n and thee Son this thy sin is vanish'd as lamented I take delight to pardon sin repented Father but such offenders are too base To raign as Sons grant me a servants place Son know my Servants are as sons to me So highly honour'd all my Saints shall be Father then let me be for ever bound To serve where service is such freedom found Son welcome Son no bondman thou shalt be But shalt inherit with my Sons made tree Free then indeed when the testator lives To make that freedome certain which he gives BREATHINGS After DIVINE AYRE The third Booke The foolish man hath said in his heart tush there is no God Psal. 14. 1. Desires of ayde MOst gracious God and yet a God most meeke Above the heav'ns yet stoup'st to earth below Beyond our reatch yet giv'st us leave to seek past our conceit yet wouldst have us to know To seeke and know thee as thou dost appeare But further knowledge is not granted here As then we ought not to presume to pry Into those secrets must be yet conceal'd So thou hast given us licence yea a tye To seeke and know thee as thou art reveal'd Oh let me read thee in thy copies then But stay my thoughts where thou hast stay'd thy pen Thy largest booke is in thy works indented Thy lesser copy in our soules ingraven Thy sacred volumes are the Scriptures printed Thy secret lines are sent by grace from heaven Which secret lines Lord center in my breast Those are the keyes to open all the rest I do confesse that I am much unfit To pry into thy Mysteries Divine Besides the starres will not of sparks admit To zoare into those circles where they shine Though thou the Sun from whence those starres have light Disdain'st not sparks but mak'st them burn more bright Oh then thou Sun yea light it selfe indeed Who dost not quench muchles disdainst the same The smoking flax nor break'st the brused reed Turn thou my spark into so pure a flame As may both warme my chilled soule within And burst out to the light of other men Thou dost confound things mightie by the weake Out of the mouths of babes ordainest praise Mak'st the unlearned yea the dumb to speake Rejectest none but who rejects thy waies That hate to be reform'd Lord helpe me here And in my weaknesse let thy strength appeare Breathings after Divine Ayre EArth stand amazed stand amaz'd and move And be you heav'ns astonished above A man and yet no maker hells abisse Yea tremble earth and heav'n and hell at this Superiour powers who fram'd this matchlesse frame This man and form'd your Image in the same What fretting time or what infernall powers Have rac'd or thus defac'd that worke of yours You made him holy he defiles his race You gave him honour he hath lost that grace You lent him knowledge he abus'd that light Yours by creation he denies you quite Unhappie chance unhappie change alas What brought this most unhappie change to passe Who turn'd this perfect good to perfect evill But he that turn'd from Angell to a divell That hatefull hurtfull enemy indeed Who whiles man slept cast tares amongst the seed Or rather only in that peece of clay Cast tares and stole the pretious seed away Presumptuous theefe and enemy to man Whose hidious theft in heav'n above began He there aspir'd to steale from the most high And there most justly rob'd himselfe thereby For this his fact thrown down from heav'n to hell He lost himselfe and maker as he fell And ever since his restlesse selfe hath tost To steale from man what he by stealing lost But silly man shall such a hatefull foe Rob thee of God prevaile upon thee so Shall hells black vapours so thy soule benight To put out of thee all celestiall light But sensles man or rather savage beast Canst thou thus at the God-head make a jeast The fiends in hell more fealtie declare For they confesse there is a God and feare Oh horid hellish blasphemy or worse The damn'd in hell deny not God though curse And such as here against him dare dispute Shall find hereafter hell will them confute But silly man or monster of that name In mind a monster though a man in frame Resolve this
wilt be still a heathen swine Yet know God will be knowne of thee infine If here thou wilt not know him by his works A sin abominated by the Turks If here thou wilt to know him by that spark Now rak'd up in thy conscience yet his marke Nor yet wilt know him by the eye of faith Beleeving what the holy Scripture saith But dost this cloud of witnesses repell Yet God will make thee know him though in hell Yea more then know for thou shalt feel him there And in that den his Deity declare When divells shall torment thee as their owne Because thou here wouldst have no God-head known Thus I have walk'd in an unwonted strain Which some it may be will account as vaine As if I heare by some what went about To bring a truth most manifest in doubt Who is so grosse may some perhaps reply To make a question of the Deity If there be none why should I now begin To make a doubt where none before hath bin Indeed with us where so much light doth shine As if directly underneath the line With us where God so perfectly appears And as it were hath dwelt so many years If there should harbour any here so blinde So dead in sense and stupifi'd in minde As once to harbour Atheisme in thought Therein most hideous treachery were wrought Yet sith we finde that Scripture doth impart Which only can anatomize the heart That such a thought in some hath harbour'd been Yea all men are by nature so unclean Each heart by nature is deceitfull still And every thought continually ill We doubtlesse may though to our shame conclude That Atheisme is in a multitude Especially if duly we propound How meerly naturall multitudes are found Againe besides our nature which hath stood Since Adams fall an enemy to good We have another enemy as great Who hinders good with a more deadly hate The divell that arch enemy indeed To God himselfe to Adam and his seed He seeks by his inscrutible an art To steal no lesse then God out of the heart And to that purpose night and day doth spend Suggesting doubts and questions to that end By which with man he doth too much prevaile Else why did David in that nature faile Who was a man most dear to God we finde And yet the divell trap'd him in that kinde When he did almost in his thoughts complain As if that he had wish'd his hands in vain From whence it must by consequence arise God for the time was taken from his eyes Then if such lofty cedars may be shaken How may the shrubs be in that nature taken Poore creatures who have neither care nor skill To frustrate Sathans working of his will Such fiery darts the divell dayly throwes And at our hearts he doth direct his blowes And I for my part cannot testifie That any living scape them as they fly Only as aged Jesses youngest son For safety did to sanctuary run Where he beheld the wound was hid before And eke got balme to heale his bleeding sore So when we doe the tempters dart discry We may like David to the Temple fly To reading hearing meditate and pray Such fumes as those will drive the fiend away Or as old Jacobs children in distresse When bit with serpents in the wildernesse By only looking on a serpents wing Expel'd the poyson of that bite or sting Even so when Sathan that old serpent stings We may have healing underneath those wings Which Jacobs children in figure view'd To us a Christ in their similitude Thus as the divell daily doth belay To steal our goods to steal our God away God that we should by no means let him go Hath left us means to circumvent that foe And hence proceeds that combate in our breasts The flesh consenting but the soule resists But when the soule submits to carnall sense The divell then gets the preheminence And thou within whose bosome no such strife Or combate hath incumbered thy life The divell sure hath favour'd thee therein Or thou too much infatuated bin But thou that feelst no want at all of aid Thou gavst him here a Paradise indeed But thou wilt give him heaven which doth exceed Yet doe not count this altogether vaine Ther 's no such drosse but may afford some graine The troubl'd soule counts no occasion slight That may assist when it is thus in fight What thou think'st bane may be anothers meat Then what thou like'st not let another eat Though these be hearbs nay weeds out of the wood Yet hearbs nay weeds for many things are good I trust no Colloquintida is here No danger if thy stomack then be clear Lord what is man that thou art so mindfull of him Psal. 8. vers. 4. Desires of Aid MOst Gracious God as then hast lent thy hand To move my heart and to direct my pen In some weake measure thus to understand And make thee understood of other men God only wise almighty pure eternall Without whose mercy man must be infernall So let thy hand Lord be outstretched still To stir my heart that most polluted spring That in that fountaine I may dip my quill And from that depth such secret matter bring As to my selfe may make my selfe appeare That I may seek to make that fountaine clear And as we all doe to our comfort finde That thou of man hast ever mindfull been So let my lines be moving in some kinde That we again may not forget thee then But may for ever as it is our parts Inthrone thee in the centre of our hearts LOrd what is man may well be ask'd of thee None but thine eye can that exactly see Thou gav'st him life when thou hadst given him fashion Thou only therefore canst resolve that question Man peradventure like a butcher may Unmake those walls which thou hast made of clay Rip up mans body open every part Take out his entrails looke into his heart Note every artrie conduit pipe and veine And pâ—y into the Chamber of the brain Tell all his sinewes crushes bones and finde How every member is to other joyn'd Let this be granted as perhaps it may In some imperfect superfices way Yet what can man in this description read Of what man in perfection was indeed Alas in this man doth indeed no more Then as it were unlock the little doore Of some rich cabinet which being done Doth finde it empty all its jewels gone Where being frustate of his Chiefe desire Finds nothing left but only to admire The curious art about that little frame With lively forms yet pictures on the same Even so mans body that same heav'ns device Wherein are lock'd up all our gemmes of price When cruell death once turnes his key about Unlocks the doore and lets those jewels out Mans body straight becomes a trunke bereft Of all its matchlesse treasure empty left And nothing to the searchers eye remains To satisfie his curious eye or pains But only to admire the