Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A53556
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A copy of verses: presented to all my worthy masters and mistrisses in the town of Lambeth. By Thomas Ouldman, bell-man for that part of the parish.
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Ouldman, Thomas.
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1684
(1684)
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Wing O590A; ESTC R214541
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1,667
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1
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A Copy of VERSES PRESENTED To all my Worthy Masters and Mistrisses In the Town of LAMBETH By THOMAS OULDMAN BELL-MAN for that part of the Parish The PROLOGUE My Masters all I willing am to show What my poor weak Endeavours strives to doc What can expected be from any Man More than to strive to do the best he can But if you are Displeas'd at what is here I hope I shall Experienc'd be next Year And then perhaps I may my Masters please Who may perhaps Laugh at such Lines as these On Christmas-Day ALL Christians ought with joy for to remember The Blessed Five and Twentieth of December For then our Blessed Saviour Christ was Born Whom unbelieving Jews did mock and scorn But such was our most bless'd Creators love He Man to save descended from above Then let us praise his Everlasting Name Who came to save us from Eternal Flame On St. Stephen's Day THis Day St. Stephen he was Ston'd to Death Yet prais'd his Saviour with his dying breath How cruel and unworthy were the Jews Falsly of Blasphemy him to accuse But tho' with Stones they knockt this Martyr down He 's now Rewarded with a Heavenly Crown Lord grant that we may all with Christ remain Where Saints rejoyce and never shall complain On St. John's Day SAint John whom Christ did love so well dear As Holy Scripture plainly makes appear Was for his Masters sake tormented sore Such Cruelty I think was ne'r before For in a Caldron of Oyl boyling hot They cast this Saint but yet it hurt him not Such is our Saviour's Everlasting love He saves his Saints to dwell with him above On Innocents Day HErod the King was a Tyrannick Prince And shew'd no mercy to poor Innocents He sought most earnestly Christs Blood to spill But God the Father him preserved still O Lord preserve the Ruler of this Nation And make him happy by thy preservation That all his Subjects cheerfully may sing Long let us flourish under Charles our King On our Saviour's Passion THe Earth did tremble and Heavens closed eye Was loath to see the Lord of Glory dye The Skies were clad in mourning and the Sphears Forgot their harmony the Clouds dropt tears Th' ambitious Dead arose to give him room And ev'ry Grave did gape to be his Tomb Th' affrighted Heav'ns sent down elegious Thunder The Worlds Foundation loos'd to lose their Founder Th' impatient Temple rent her Veil in two To teach our hearts What our sad hearts should do Shall senseless things do this and shall not I Melt one poor drop to see my Saviour dye Drill forth my Tears and trickle one by one Till you have pierc'd this heart of mine this Stone Of Death SO frail and senseless is poor mortal Man That he but seldome counts his life a span But often looks on his desert and merit Who ought to strive Christs Kingdom to inherit Where Angels do rejoyce and hourly sing Blest Hallelujahs to th' Eternal King Who lives for ever in Triumphant Peace Where joys abound that never-more shall cease On Riches and Honour TRust not to Riches that may slye away But aim at that which never will decay Thirst after Christ and his blest Diadem Which is the most and valuable Gem Can you so happy be this to obtain No Mortals Pen can e're express your gain Then shall you live in Everlasting bliss And Flames Eternal shall for certain miss On Eternity WOuldst thou for ever happy be And live in blest Eternity Obey God's Laws while here â—live And thou for ever shalt Survive But if thou wilt go on in Sin Which long to some have pleasure been At God's Great Bar you must appear To answer for your Misdeeds here A Thankful Verse E'Re I conclude my Masters you shall see For all your Favours I will Thankful be And from you all I have a many found Which I do hope will e'ry Year abound I 'le strive to serve my Worthy Masters all And proud I am you me your Servant call For never any that yet handed BELL More willing was to please my Masters well The EPILOGUE WHen these poor Lines do to some Scholar come Perhaps they may be Laughed at but some It may be will in pitty please to say He was but Raw and knew not well the way But if again such VERSES I present My Masters I shall hope to give Content When poor Illiterate Men who scarce can Write Have many Judges of what they Indite That they should all Men please it cannot be For he that doth a happy Man is he My Masters all whose Goodnesses excell Till Christmas next I bid you all Farewel LONDON Printed for the Author THOMAS OVLDMAN 1684.