Selected quad for the lemma: glory_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
glory_n	let_v	lord_n	might_n	3,282	5	10.8864	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A61970	Svffolks tears, or, Elegies on the renowned knight Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston a gentleman eminent for piety to God, love to the Church, and fidelity to his country, and therefore highly honored by them all : he was five times chosen Knight of the Shire, for the county of Suffolk, and once burgess of Sudbury, in the discharge of which trust, he always approved himself faithful, as by his great sufferings for the freedoms and liberties of his countrey, abundantly appear : a zealous promoter of the preaching of the Gospel, manifested by his great care, in presenting men, able, learned, and pious, to the places whereof he had the patronage, and also by his large and extraordinary bounty towards the advancing of religion and learning, both at home, and in forreign plantations among the heathen.	Faireclough, Samuel, 1625?-1691.; Faireclough, Samuel, 1625?-1691.	1653 (1653)	Wing S6164; Wing F109A_CANCELLED; ESTC R21324	30,120	73

what 's within The spangles of thy Crown which of the two The lower wilderness of thorns and woe Or this eternal gallery of love VVould'st chuse thy walk these prospects here above And not Lusts snakie Groves true pleasure yeelds Earths sence-inspiring glances in May-fields Cause but an ulcerous Ich those leaps of sprite Men think they feel in earthly loves delight Are here indeed the souls eternal dance Rais'd by the dartings of my countenance Look and be ravish'd spring and sing my Dove Tuning thy measures to my eye of love Saint How low 's this Chore how Faint's this eccho here Is this th' Almighties praise that now I heare Can the thousand thousands raise no higher Jehovah thy acceptance I admire Is all the powers of Saints and Angels joyn'd Beneath thy love and glory thus confin'd O love thy selfe my God were this a place Tears should reflect thy beams upon my face Canst thou not make a Temple higher roof'd wherein on louder Organs may be prov'd The Art of treble-voiced Seraphims Joyn'd with deep Accent of wing'd Cherubims But neither I nor these alas can raise Ought else but love Lord reckon that thy praise And I am glad th' art great beyond our songs Because we feel thee good beyond our Tongues And since thou smil'st to hear thy Nurc'ry sing In broken Notes their Fathers name I 'll bring My Jews-Trump to thy set Chore let us joyn Saint and Chore All might and power transcendant Lord is thine Above thy Creatures thoughts thy glory is Their utmost stretch can give to thee no bliss Yet 't is their joy and everlasting gain That they to sing thy praise their spirits strain Thou canst have but their all their all they spend Upon thy Throne yet neither waste or end O blest be thou thou self-arisen Sun Of Light and Love from whence hath ever run Beams both of Life and good thickning to Globes And Worlds This Heaven of Saints is but the Robes Of Rayes about thee thou Eternal Spring In which th' rising streams most sweetly sing Of Life and Love and Joy of Good and Right From whence we flow and whither thou invite Thy Channels to return there are we well And not to be in thee is lowest Hell All might of love be to thy Spirit given Who least we should by Hellish winds be driven Into the gulf of woe didst with us mix And ran along our wavering course to fix On thee Life's Ocean Fruits of that love Now in our Center we do taste and prove Our life is thine O lovely God and Man The wonder of thy death who of us can Half comprehend much less repay But see The goodly Off-spring of thy Blood and be Self-satisfi'd while we behold thy Face Fill'd with delight rejoyce thou in the Grace Thy Blood hath sprinkled round about thy Throne Hallelujah Hallelujah Three in One His Character Most perfect Image of the God above Without was Majesty within was love One drawn with sweetness by an Infants hand Ne'r driv'n by violence or Base command Religion's Patron Crown of Piety Upon his Houses Ancient Chevalry To Lawful Senates was his Countrys choice The last dissolv'd above he gives his voice To a wise and beauteous Lady joyn'd Into a gen'rous Off-spring Both are twin'd He went not hence till he might clearly see Himself in 's Heir should much exalted be His Votaries Prayer O let no Curse no Sin no Fate no War His long-lin'd house e'er blot defame or scar But let its numerous seed still run along Till it receive Christ's coming with a Song The Gentries Vertues Glories let it wear But all its Vices let it scorn to bear His House a School of worth let ages see And Lord a Church of Graces let it be Richard Fairclough Rector of Mells in Sommersetshire To the Memory of that Highly Noble and Religious Knight Sir NATH. BARNARDISTON PArdon great Sir though others to your Tomb Bring Volumes of your praise and I be dumb A Verse or two is all I can not want Of sorrow but the greatness makes me scant I cannot write Tears make my Paper sink My Pen weeps too its proper tears of Ink These whil'st I strive to Checker my white sheet Correct my Error and tell me 't is meet That all be black that every part should mourn And so my sheet into a pall they turn How can I make a Verse who want my Feet Rooted I stand amazed at the great And strangness of our loss sad Niobs fate Transform'd to stone is mine incorporate I to a quarry am Then take from me His Monument his Grave-stone I will be And so for ever I upon my Brest Shal wear this Epitaph and weep the rest Epitaph Here lies those Sacred Ashes once the seat Of Heav'n-born-fires and Loves diviner heat No Basket-Justice or Brib'd Committee No purged Senator but all Purity In 's Consort happy both in Off-spring Crown'd Birth made him noble Piety renown'd Anagram Nathaniell Barnardiston Born in an All-sainted Hart. How well All Saints give honor to his Urn Whose Faith was in An Hart All-sainted Born The World 's unworthy of him whose best part Liv'd and was Born in an All-Sainted Hart. Nathaniell Fairclough Rector of Stalbridge in Dorcetshire PARENTALE or an ELEGIE on the Highly Honorable and Right Worshipful Sir Nath. Barnardiston Kt. BY Euphrat's Floud when Captive Israel sate Increasing it their Harps inanimate Hung speechless by All sorrows want their Tongues These Organs speak not fill'd from sighing Lungs Great anger makes a Poet but the sense Of greatest grief stops flowing eloquence Who groans in tune hath learn't the Hebrew art To weep with th' eye but bleed not at the heart My Theam 's too great that Pegasus should wear Such straitning Fetters he can't mount the air Or soar aloft whil'st pinion'd is his Wing England lies here your boundless tears then bring And Mote it round let every weeping eye Now pay its River till the Springs be dry Then offer them Galatian tribute here Is due he payes an eye that hath no tear The Academy Country Church at once Have lost their cheifest Patron and thus groans Erst while I saw a Spring 't was Hippocrene Brim'd round about with Sable Jet within The waters swell'd and past their common bounds Strait I drew near t' observe and search the grounds Of this late Floud and silently I spy'd The Orphan Muses by all sadly cry'd And as they wept the dewy tears that fell Slid to that watry lodge which made it swell Their Patrons death Apollo caus'd this wo Which falling beads now tell a wrinkled O From every fall their griefs in water wrote And spake the sadness of their sighing note The common people next dismaid with fears Dewing their Bosoms thus fills all our ears Swift Time Heavens Pursevant straitly summons To th' Lords House this Member of the Commons Thrice chosen Senator let Ipswich fame How oft her streets have eccho'd with his Name But cruel dint of death's

Hundreds of pounds and yet have faeid how free Have I been to my Clerk I did present Him to some hundred pounds but yet in Cent ' Gat fifty to himselfe God never mean It should be so which thing this Saint knew wel And loath'd such baseness as he loathed hel He was a Benefactor to our Tribe VVe freely had his boones he scorn'd our bribe If he were now whence once he was ejected To heare Petitions from the ill-affected Begging of men in power to haste and ply The begg'ring of the godly Ministry By stripping them of means and maintenance And ' th other honour due good countenance That God allows them and hath given command That no man openly or under-hand Should rob them of it or with-hold their due He would have hated to have prov'd untrue To truth or them loathing ill-gotten pelfe And would have kept them up or faln himself And not by seeking theirs have ruin'd those Gods faithful servants which himself hath chose Gifted and sent dispencers of his minde To them that sat i' th dark with eyes-ful blind And God hath bless'd their pains maugre her 's spight And brought them out of darkness into light Yea to their calling God hath set his seal Their people their Epistle are and weale Of many Souls through grace effected by Their faithful Labours in their Ministry I trust our Worthies now in power wil stand Strong for the Truth and Gospel in the Land Preach'd and profess'd and maugre all our scorners Preserve us that we fly not into corners VVhere pining souls their Teachers cann●● see So starve and dye through Romish policy Those that have gotten any Gospel good From Preachers lips must love them though none stood For them and their incouragement but they Wil chuse to dye before they 'l e're give way To throw them down and Heachenize the Nation Knowing 't wil prove Religions extirpation They 'l lend no eare in this corrupted time To them wh'ould make the Word a cover-crime But whither runs my pen my Muse return And fall again to mourning o're the urn Of this desceased Saint whose losse is such Thousands we might have lost yet not so much As we have lost in thee blest soul on ground Say where is such another to be found Where 's such an Husband Father Friend or Brother A word of comfort say where 's such another Patron a Saint so good just meek so kinde So self-denying such an heavenly minde His husbanding his time so godly spent Told me h' was bound for heav'n before he went Since he 's commenc'd above and got his grace VVe cannot leave him in a better place Yet one word more give leave for e're I 'ave done Much honour'd Lady you his eldest Sonne Yee children all who put to 't would much rather Have chose the losse of all then of your Father Let sorrows surges sink let comfort come And joy your sad and heavie hearts make roome For gladness know ye 'ave mourn'd your shares Your deare is gone to glory stay your tears Yee see what God hath done and who may have Like liberty to take as he that gave Submit to God bear Christianly this Crosse He can restore you manifold your losse Madam take comfort and trust God to be A better Husband to you farre then He And to your vertuous Daughters widows left Both like your selfe of Husbands late bereft Not only Husband but of Father too To you and yours thus doth the Promise go Worthy Sir Thomas now great God expects In you such graces from you such effects As in and from your blessed Father were Take care herein you truly prove his heir My prayers for yee all shal be this rather God make ye better then your Gracious Father Loquitur post funera virtus Ro. Cooke An Elegie on that eminently religious Knight Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston STay Reader stay stand but a while and see The dismal face of this sad obsequie Where all are Mourners where you 'd think you spy A Son or Daughters tear in every eye Hark Reader hast thou ever seen what Grace What Majesty was seated in his face Then bow before his shrouded head and know What honour's due where age white hairs did snow Where vertue where a noble minde did dwel Which nothing can beside its self excel Democritus himselfe should he but know What caus'd these tides of tears to over●flow The watrish humour in his eye I feare Would melt the Chrystaline into a tear Reader first pay a tear and then passe on 'T is no dry subject we are now upon But hold God too wil have his harvest free From rainy showres of tears as wel as we This full-ear'd Wheat of his first bow'd its head So gather'd was to 's Garner with the dead Apostrophe ad defunctum Blest Shade your pardon that thus late my verse In black and white attends your sacred herse My Muse was fondly loath I must confess To mixe with sables in an English dresse Thought that too homely wanton did desire A persick Syriak Arabick attire Or any more exotick Parrots seek A Caesars favour in no lesse then Greek Pardon her soft-pac'd measures her delayes She in sad broken Accents sighing sayes Should sundry Tongues each with a diverse tone Lament our loss all must consent in one Write on the weeping Marble here doth lye Mecaenas and the Muses Deity Sic flevit Gulielm Stephenson Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston his Hallelujah Saint THrice holy Lord at thy right hand I see The Incense pillars up ascending be From thy most precious bloud on which doth lye The Roose and hang the Pavement of this high And glorious Court by them brought up I stand Before thy face expecting thy command Almighty Drop of my selfe eternally my Dear Distance away draw to this bosome near Lo here thy elder Brother did'st not long To see thy Jesus seest thou not the throng Of crowned Saints about thee that rejoyce To joyn thee to their Chore who with their voyce My everlasting praise do sing this sphear Of Ravishment that doth thee circle here The native heat is of thy Fathers brest From whence when first thou sparkled'st I thee blest VVith my unknown delight and love to me Thou art not strange but from eternity Thou always present wert behold thy name Deeply in-laid upon the Covenant frame Of my Free Grace that Archive Archy-type And Index of this Court the first grand Pipe Conveighing down my love unto my Son Through him and all his Gospel veins to run Into th' elect those Gulphs of love find'st not My half beleeved Gospel true thy Lot Does it not fill thy heart fulfill my Oath Doe I delude the sons of men when loath To mind or love me I them wooe and pray To daine acceptance of me that they may Be wel and pleased here doe I deserve That slight and scorn that dust and ashes serve Me daily with the Leprous scales of sin Have they more weight of joy then