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	riches_n	4,751	5	9.0528	5	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A05590	The gushing teares of godly sorrovv Containing the causes, conditions, and remedies of sinne, depending mainly upon contrition and confession. And they seconded, with sacred and comfortable passages, under the mourning cannopie of teares, and repentance. By William Lithgovv.	Lithgow, William, 1582-1645?	1640 (1640)	STC 15709; ESTC S108580	48,504	102

THE GUSHING TEARES OF GODLY SORROW CONTAINING The Causes Conditions and Remedies of Sinne Depending mainly upon Contrition and Confession And they seconded with Sacred and Comfortable passages under the mourning CANNOPIE of TEARES and REPENTANCE MATTH. 5. 4. Blessed are they that mourne for they shall be comforted PSAL. 126. 5. They that sow in teares shall reape in joy By WILLIAM LITHGOVV EDINBURGH Printed by ROBERT BRYSON ANNO DOM 1640. At the expences of the Authour TO THE TRVLY NOBLE MAGNANIMOVS AND ILLUSTRIOUS LORD IAMES EARLE OF MONTROSE Lord GRAHAME Baron of MURDOCK c. Illustrious LORD IF gratefull duetie may be reputed the childe of reason then doubtlesse my choisest wishes and best Affection must here fall prostrate before your auspicuous and friendlie face fast chayned in the fetters of obedience Flatterie and Ingratitude I disdayne as hell And to court your Lo with elegant phrases were indeed as much as who would light a Candle to light the Sunne Your Noble and Heroicke Vertues light this Kingdome and who can give them light For as the Aurore of your honoured reputation is become that Constantinopolitan Hyppodrome to this our Northrene and virgine Albion so lykewise the same singularitie of worth hath raised your auspicuous selfe to be the monumentall glorie of your famous and valiant Predecessours iustly tearmed THE SWORD OF SCOTLAND Your morning of their Summers day hath fullie enlarged the sacred Trophees of their matchlesse memorie best befitting the generositie of your magnanimous minde That as the GRAHAME from long antiquitie being the most ancient surname of this unconquered Nation so they your old aged Ancestors have left a lineall construction of their Valour and Worthinesse to bee inherent in your most hopefull personage which God may long continue to you your Race and your Posteritie My humble request pleads the continuance of your favour that as your late renowned Grand-father and Father were unto mee both friendlie and favourable proceeding from their great goodnesse not my deserts so expect I the same from your tender bountie which hitherto beyond my merit hath beene exceeding kyndlie manifested For the which my prayse and prayers the two sisters of myne Oblation rest solidlie ingenochiated at the feete of your conspicuous Clemencie This present worke in its secret Infancie was both seene and perused by your Lo but now enlarged polished and published I have done my best though not my uttermost The discourse it selfe runneth most on the causes conditions and remedies of sin and they sharply linked in generalls and particulars The whole substance of my labours sealing vp the happinesse of a sinners conversion to God under the mourning Cannopie of Teares and Repentance The lynes are plaine yet pithie and although the subject may carrie no loftie nor Poëticke style yet themanner the matter the Man and his Muse are all and only yours and I left theirs onlie to serve you and your noble disposition Accept therefore my good Lord both the gift and givers minde with the same alacritie as I offer them in Love and humilitie which being shelterd under your pious and prudent Patronage shall enforce mee to remaine as I vow ever to be whilst I have being Your Honours most obsequious and most observant Oratour WILLIAM LITHGOVV The Prologue to the Reader THou mayst peruse this worke with kynde respect Cause none my good intention can controule The style may not the subject beare defect Some Painter will the fayrest face drawe foule Excuse myne age if faultie blame my quill Defects may fall and not fayle in goodwill My Muse declynes downe styde her loftie straynes And hoarie growes succumbing to the dust Old wrung inventions from industrious paynes Draw to the grave where death must feede his lust Flesh flye in ashes bones returne to clay Whence I begunne there must my substance stay Goe thou laborious pen and challenge tyme For memorie to all succeeding ages In thy past workes and high heroicke ryme And pregnant prose in thryce three thousand pages Yet dye thou must and Tyme shall weare thee out Ere seaven tymes seaven worne ages goe about But Vertue claymes her place and prostrate I Must yeelde due honour to her noble name Shee taught mee to take paynes it s done and why To make her famous in her flying fame A Sculler may transport a royall Queene As well as Oares and both their safeties seene Trust mee my paynes contend for to bee playne No style Poeticke may this subject clayme Touch but Vermilion you shall see a stayne No fiction may averre a sacred Theame Nor dare Panthoas Cynthias herball flowre Be seene nor spread till rolling Phoebus lowre Then read misconster not but wisely looke If I divinely keep a divine stile Which done thou mayst take pleasure in this booke An Infant from devotion bred the while Like treatise I before neere wrote excuse This new borne birth from mine old aged Muse See! here in generals thou mayst observe The cause of sinne sinnes remedy salt teares Where sharpe particulars for repentance serve To blazon wickednesse and wicked feares What here is done to thee to me to all May be apply'd as each one findes his fall Yet who can stop base Critick tongues to carpe For Atheists shall and Epicures repine So scoffing fooles on strings of scorne will harpe To see this myte a part of mine engyne But silly Gnats worse bred then Berdoan beasts I slight their spight my Muse in Sion feasts Would thou contend with me who best should write On choice of Theames select●d between its twaine I could abide thy censure take delite In thy defects to censure thee againe Since thou sits dumbe and cannot bite but barke Peace hold thy peace else show me thine owne wark But zealous eyes may come come and come soone To read this Task if pleasd Lo I have done To the godly and good Christian a fellow suppliant in Christ WILLIAM LITHGOVV THE GVSHING TEARES OF GODLY SORROW SPring sweet coelestial Muse launch forth a flood Of brinish streams in cristall melting woes Rain-rill my plaints then bath them in Christs blood Let pearling drops my pale remorse disclose Sink sorrow in my soule divulge my grief Who mourns and mourns in time shall finde relief I can not reach to what my soule would aime But help good God my weaknesse and support My bashfull quill O! teach me to disclaime My self and cleave to thy all-saving Port Touch thou my heart so shall my lips recoile Thine Altars praise to sing sins utmost spoile Thrice blest is he who mournes he shall rejoyce Whilst godly sorrow shall encrease his joy Lord heare my cryes remarke my weeping voice Blesse thou this work let grace my heart imploy That what these Tears aford in this plain storie May tend to my souls health and thy great glorie Great Son of the great God fulnesse of time Whom Heavens applaude whom earth fals down before The promis'd Pledge whom Prophets most sublime Foretold to come our Lord the Son of

glore To thee knee-bowd before thy face I fall Come help O help now I begin to call Most holy mighty high and glorious God! Most mercifull most gracious and kinde Most Ancient righteous patient and good Most wise most just most bountifull of minde Infuse thy grace enlarge thy love in mine Confirme my faith conforme my will to thine Eternall One Beginner unbegunne Thou first and last Heavens founder and Earths ball Container uncontaind Father and Sonne Thou All in All unruld yet ruling All Great Light of lights who moves all things unmovd Hearke help and heare for Christs sake thy belovd Sole Soveraigne Balme come heale my wounded soule Which fainting fals under thine heavie hand Regard my plaints remit mine errours foule Let mercy far above thy justice stand Be thou my Heaven place Heaven within mine heart Thy presence can make Heaven where e're thou art Come challenge me come claime me for thine owne Plead thou thy right take place in my possession Lord square my steps thy goodnesse may be knowne In pard'ning each defect of my transgression Arrest my sinnes but let my soule goe free Baile me from thrall let sinne deaths subject die Lord wing my love with feather'd faith to flee To thy all-burning Throne of endlesse glory Mercie is thine for mercy is with thee Lord write my name in thine eternall story O! help my strength farre weaker than a reed Accept my purpose for the reall deed The good I would alace I can not do The ill I would not that I follow still The more thou citst me I grow stubborn too Preferring base corruption to thy will For when thy Sprite to serve Thee doth perswade me The World the Flesh and Satan they disswade me What should I say no gift in me is left To doe to speak to think one godly motion Lord help my wants for why my soule is reft Twixt feare and hope 'twixt sinne and true devotion Faine would I flighter from this lust-lymd clay But more I strive the more I faster stay Lord with the sonne forlorne bring me againe And cloth me with the favour of thy face The swinish husks of sinne I loath and faine Would be thy childe adopt'd the childe of grace Thy Lambe was kill'd for my conversions sake Of which let me some food and comfort take Thy glorious Hierarchy and Martyres all Rejoyce at the returne of a lost sheep Lord in that number let my portion fall That I with them like melodie may keep So with thy Saints my happynesse shall be One and the same as they are blest in Thee Yet whilst I pause and duely do consider Thy will my wayes thy righteousnesse mine errours I cannot plead to flie I know not whidder So grievous are the mountains of my terrours My sinnes so ugly stand before thy face That I dare hardly claime or call for grace What am I in thine eyes if I could ponder But brickle trash compos'd of slyme and clay A wretch-worne worme erect'd for sinne a wonder Whilst my souls treason is thy judgements prey I have no health nor truth nor divine flashes So wicked is this Masse of dust and ashes Lord stretch thine arme put Satan to the flight Exile the world from me and me from it Curbe thou my flesh beat down my lusts delight Rule thou my heart my will guide with thy Sprit Infuse encrease confirme here from above Thy feare thy law in me thy light thy love So shall I through Heavens merit onely rise And kisse thy soule-sought Sonne thy Lambe thy Dove For whose sweet sake I shall thy sight surprise And lift my hope on his redeeming love Blest be the price of mine exalting good Who payd my ransome with his precious blood In Thee I trust Lord help my wavering faith And with thy merits my demerits cover Dispell my weaknesse strengthen my faint breath Renew my life and my past sinnes passe over Be thou my Pilot guide this barke of clay Safe to the Port of thy coelestiall stay Grant me obedience to thy blest desire Instruct my minde environe me with ruth Cleanse thou my heart with flames of sacred fire Fraught with the fulnesse of thy saving truth Build up mine Altar let mine offerings be Faith feare and hope love praise and thanks to Thee Lord spare me for his sake whom thou not spard For my sake even for him from Thee above Was sent down here and slaine O! what regard Bore thou to Man to send thy Sonne of Love To suffer for my guilt the fault being mine But ah good Lord the punishment was thine Thy love great God from everlasting flowes To everlasting Mans reach onely brings Forth the Creation but thy love forth showes From all eternitie eternall springs Of light unsearchable then praise we Thee That ere time was ordain'd our time to be God made all things and God was made a Man All things he made of nothing but come see Withoutten man all things the truth to scan Had turnd to nothing for from one degree God of himselfe made all things and what more He would not all things without Man restore He was of God begotten all things made And borne of woman all things did renew For without man all things had been a shade So nothing well without a Virgin true Thus God and Man conjoynd in one we feele Life of our life and soule of our souls w●le What was he made and what hath he made us I pause with joy with silence I admire This mystery I adore who can discusse That goodnesse great sprung from so good a Syre Can reason show more reasonable way Than leave to pry where reason can not swey The Sonne of God behold was made a Man To make us men th' adopted sonnes of God By which he made himself our brotherthen For in all kindes he keeps our brotherhood Though Judge save sinne and Intercessour see He brothers us we must his suppliants be With what assurance then may we all hope What feare can force despaire or yet distrust Since our salvation and our endlesse scope Hangs on our elder brother Christ the Just He 'le give us all the good which we desire And pardon all the sinnes on us engyre The burden of our miseries he bore And laid his merits weight on our sick soules A kindnesse beyond reach his goodnesse more Engross'd his name for us in shamefull scroules O! wondrous love that God should humble thus Himself and take Mans shape to rescue us He who in heavens was admirable set Became for us contemptible on earth And from the Towre of his Imperiall state Imbrac'd a Dungeon for angelick mirth And chang'd the name of Majestie in love To shelter us with mercy from above What eyes for grief should not dissolve in floods Whilst our vile sinnes procur'd his wofull paine He sought our well unsought when we in woods Of wickednesse lay wallowing amaine And daily yet by sinne distrust and strife We crucifie

againe the Lord of life As irne in fire cast takes fires nature And yet remaineth irne though fram'd what than So he who in Gods love doth burne that creature Partakes his holynesse abiding man For love seals up Gods counsels ends the law From which we sinners cords of mercy draw Love is the roote of vertue and the childe Of grace Truths mistresse and religions glasse The soule of goodnesse in perfection milde The crowne of Saints that conquer Paradise The joy of Angels O! what springs of love Flow from the Lamb for us and our behove Ingratefull Man contemner of thy good Can thou not back-bestow thy debt-bund love To him for thee did shed his precious blood And though rebuk'd yet would he not reprove Why did he fast weep watch and labour take In basenesse and contempt but for thy sake Then be not like that plant Ephemeron Which springs and growes and fades all in one day But plead remorse beg for contrition Mourne for thy sinnes make haste prevent delay In this my self shall to my self returne He best can weep that knowes the way to mourne I rather seem'd than been religious set Having Jacobs voice and Esau's rough hands I make profession practise I forget My better zeale hypocrisie commands I Serpent like do change my skinne but not Disgorge the poison lurkes within the throate Vice I have us'd under a vertuous seeming And like the sea though rivers in it fall Yet not the sweeter or like Pharaohs dreaming The leane kine yet were leane when eaten all Stay then dry soule where are thy Teares what springs Should thy pale eyne cast out when sorrow sings I meane not childrens teares when whipt for aw Nor mundane teares for losse of trash or geare Nor spightfull teares which would revenge downe draw Nor teares of grief for them concerne us neare Nor teares for death nor teares for what disasters Nor teares for friends nor wives teares for men wasters Nor drunken teares spent after sugred wine Which women waste to colour imperfection Nor Dalilahs fained teares to undermine The strong mans strength by way of fals detection Nor Sinons teares the Trojane state betrayde With the wooden horse Ulysses wit bewrayde Nor faigned teares the Crocodilean sexe Do spend I meane their husbands to deceave Nor these Courtegian teares that love to vexe Their sottish Palliards and their meanes bereave Nor teares of pitty mercy beg from men That 's not the drift of my obsequious pen Looke to thy lapses and quotidian falling Then try thy conscience if remorse creeps in Which if it doe thou art brought to this calling Of godly weeping for the guilt of sinne These tears are blest and such mine eyes would borrow But not these tears which melt for worldly sorrow Lord strengthen me with knowledge of thy word Square thou my judgement I may walk upright An intellective Heart my soule aford Endue my sprite with supernatrall light Faine would I slaughter sinne that would me slay And learne thy truth Lord teach me thy right way Confound in me this all-predominant sinne Which overrules my reason sense and will One head-strong vice that lurkes and lyth within The inmost center of mine utmost ill Lord curbe its force and purifie my soule From such uncleannesse for its wondrous foule Grant grant remorse let godly sorrow show My full-swolne sight my brinish tears my sadnesse Come sowre repentance let sweet contrition know The mourning woes of my rejoycing gladnesse What though that grief at morne worke me annoy Yet long ere night thou'le turne my grief in joy The best man lives hath one predominant ill Oppos'd to the best good he can effect The worst man breaths though curs'd pervers'd of will Hath some predominant good he doth affect Even either answering contrare to their kinde Seeme to resemble what they never finde Lord what am I whose best is even accurst Who with thy Convert is of sinners chief A sharde unsav'rie of thy works the worst Unlesse thy grace renew me with reliefe Lord will my well prepare my heart give eare If faith can call O! thou canst quickly heare The poore which almes seeks he gets not aide For any need the giver hath of him But even because he hath of us great need So we by faith on Christian steps must clim For God of his great love he freely gives us And without need of man he still relieves us A Cynick came and ask'd the Syrian king Antigonus a dram of silver coyne But he reply'd it was too base a thing For kings to give or lend so small aloane Said Cynick then I would a talent crave But that 's too much for thee said he to have Thus two extreams were both extreamly met But it s not so with God and sinfull men The more we seeke the more we 're sure to get God of his bounty is so good that when We mercy crave he grants it gives us grace Our wills and wayes may in his precepts trace Lift up my falling minde Lord knit my heart With cords of love and chaines of grace to thee As Jonathans three arrows did impart To Davids woes true signes of amitie So rouze my sprite let grace and goodnesse spell Mine Annagram I LOVE ALMIGHTY WEL O! if I could byte off the head of sinne As the shee Viper doth the male confound But not like her whose brood conceiv'd within Cut forth her wombe leave her dead on the ground Lord grant I sinne may slay ere sinne slay me The wounds are deep my health consists in Thee Lord when I ponder on this worldly pride Vaine glory riches honour noble birth Great lands and rents faire palaces beside Pastimes and pleasures fit-thought things on earth Without thy love and in regard of thee They 're nought but shaddows of meere vanitie All under sunne are Emblems of deceit Link'd snares to trap blind man in ev'ry vice They 're feather'd baits prest grines that lye in wait To catch the buyer unvaluing their pryce Then carelesse soule take heed prevent this danger Lay hold on Christ and be no more a stranger Gods will allots that my past curious sights In painfull prime all where the world abroad Should be repaid with as darke cloudie nights Of sorrows sad for now I finde the rod Sicknesse and crosses compasse me about Whence none but Christ can help or rid me out Listen to me as to thy Lazar poore That 's overstamp'd with seals of scabs and sores Both vile and wretch'd lyth at thy mercies doore Begging for crummes of pitie and implores That thou wouldst open with Lydia my heart And make me Sauls dear second thy Convert Thy lengthning hand is now no more cut short Than in old times of wonder-working dayes But thou canst turne and safely bring to Port The wilsome Wandrer from his sinfull wayes O then great Sheepherd pitie a lost sheep And bring me home safe in thy fold me keep Thou art the vine I am the