Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
lord_n	day_n	night_n	time_n	11,545	5	3.7585	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A16772	The Passion of a discontented minde	Breton, Nicholas, 1545?-1626?; Essex, Robert Devereux, Earl of, 1566-1601.; Southwell, Robert, Saint, 1561?-1595.	1601 (1601)	STC 3679.5; ESTC S2532	6,237	26

him we should haue serued What greater sinne can touch a humane hart What hellish furie can be worse tormented What sinner liues that feeleth not a part Of this sharpe plague vnlesse he haue repented And yet Repentance surely is but vaine Without full purpose not to sinne againe And is it not then plaine follies error To couet that that brings with it contempt And makes vs liue in feare distrust and terror Hating at last the thing wee did attempt For neuer sinne did yet so pleasing taste But lustfull flesh did loathe it when t' was past Witnes my wofull soule which well can tell In hiest top of sinne 's most fresh delight Although my frailety suffred mee to dwell Yet being past I loath'd it with despight But like the swine I fed mine owne desire That being cleane stil coueteth the mire So greedy is mans beastly appetite To follow after dunghill pleasures still And feede on carrion like the rauening kite Not caring what his hungry maw dooth fill But worketh euermore his wills effect Without restraint controlement or respect O why should man that beares the stamp of heauen So much abase heauens holy will and pleasure O why was sence and reason to him giuen That in his sinne cannot containe a measure He knowes he must account for euery sinne And yet committeth sinnes that countlesse bin This to peruse deere God doth kill my soule But that thy mercy quickeneth it againe O heare me Lord in bitternesse of dole That of my sinnes do prostrate heere complaine And at thy feet with Mary knocke for grace Though wanting Maries teares to wet my face She happy sinner saw her life misse-led At sight whereof her inward hart did bleede To witnes with her outward teares were shed O blessed Saint and O most blessed deede But wretched I that see more sinnes than she Nor greeue within nor yet weepe outwardly When she had lost thy presence but one day The want was such hir heart could not sustaine But to thy tombe alone she tooke her way And there with sighs and teares she did complaine Nor from her sense once moou'd or stirr'd was shee Vntil againe she got a sight of thee But I haue lost thy presence all my dayes And still am slacke to see thee as I should My wretched soule in wicked sinne so stayes I am vnmeete to see thee though I would Yet if I could with teares thy comming tend I know I should as she finde thee my frend Teares are the key that ope the way to blisse The holy water quenching heau'ns quicke fire The attonement true twixt God and our amisse The Angels drinke the blessed Saints desire The ioy of Christ the balme of grieued hart The spring of life the ease of eu'ry sinart The second King of Israel by succession When with Vriahs wife he had offended In bitter teares be waild his great transgression And by his teares found grace and so repented He night and day in weeping did remaine I night nor day to shed one teare take paine And yet my sinnes in greatnesse and in number Farre his exceede how comes it then to passe That my repentance should so farre be vnder And graces force deere God is as it was Truth is that I although I haue more neede Do not as he so truely weepe indeede O wherfore is my steely heart so hard Why am I made of mettall vnrelenting Why is all ghostly comfort from me bard Or to what end do I deferre repenting Can lustfull flesh or flattring world perswade me That I can scape the power of him that made me No no the secret Searcher of all hearts Both sees and knowes each deede that I haue done And for each deede wil pay me home with smart No place can serue his wil decreed to shunne I should deceiue my selfe to thinke that he For sinne would punish others and not me Our first borne sire first breeder of mans thrall For one bare sinne was of perfection reft And all mankinde were banisht by his fall From Paradise and vnto sorrowe left If he for one and all for him feele paine Then for so many what should I sustaine The Angells made to attend on God in glorie Were thrust from heau'n and only for one sinne That but in thought for so recordes the Storie For which they still in lasting darkenesse bin If those once glorious thus tormented be I basest slaue what will become of me What wil become of me that not in thought In thought alone but in each worde and deed A thousand thousand deadly sinnes haue wrought And still doe worke whereat my hart doth bleed For euen now in this my sad complaining With new made sins my flesh my soule is staining O that I were remou'd to some close caue Where all alone retired from delight I might my sighes and teares vntroubled haue And neuer come in wretched worldlings sight Whose ill bewitching company still brings Deepe prouocation whence great danger springs Ill company the cause of many woes The sugred baite that hideth poysned hooke The rocke vnseene that shipwrackt soules o'rethrowes The weeping crocodile that killes with looke The readiest steppe to ruine and decay Graces confounder and helles nearest way How many soules do perish by thy guile How many men without all feare frequent Thy deadly haunts where they in pleasure smile Taking no care such dangers to preuent But liue like Belials vnbrideled or vntamed Not looking they shall for their faults be blamed Alas alas too wretched doe we liue That carelesly thus worke our owne confusion And to our willes such libertie doe giue Ay me it is the diuells meere illusion To flatter vs with such sense-pleasing traines That he thereby may take vs in his chaines This well foresaw good men of auntient time Which made them shunne th' occasions of foule sinne Knowing it was the nurse of euery crime And Syren-like would traine fond worldlings in Alluring them with shew of musickes sound Vntill on sinnes deepe shelfe their soules be drownd But he is held no sotiable man In this corrupted age that shall refuse To keepe the cursed company now and than Nay but a foole vnlesse he seeme to chuse Their fellowship and giue them highest place That vildest liue and furthest off from grace But better t is belieue me in my tryall To shun such hel-hounds factors of the Diuell And giue them leaue to grudge at your deniall Then to partake with such in sinne and euill For if that God in Iustice then should slay vs From hell and horror who alas could stay vs Good God the Iust as he himselfe hath spoken Should scarce be saued O terror vnremouable What then should they that neuer had a token Or signe of grace soules comfort most behoueable But gracelesse liu'd and all good deedes did hate What hope of them that liue in such a state O who will giue meteares that I may waile Both nights and dayes the dangers I haue past My soule my

soule t is much for thy auaile That thou art gotten from these straits at last O ioy but in thy ioy mixe teares withall That thou hast time to say Lord heare me call I might as others Lord haue perished Amid my sinnes and damnable delights But thou good God with care my soule hast cherished And brought it home to taste on heau'nly lights Ay me what thankes what seruice can I render To thee that of my safety art so tender Now doe I curse the time I euer went In sinnes blacke path that leadeth to damnation Now do I hate the houres I haue misse-spent In ydle vice neglecting soules saluation And to redeeme the time I haue mis-worne I wish this houre I were againe new borne But vaine it is as saith the wisest man To call againe the day that once is past O let me see what best is for me than To gaine thy fauour whil'st my life doth last That in the next I may but worthy be Eu'n in the meanest place to waite on thee I will as did the prodigall sonne sometime Vpon my knees with harty true contrition And Weeping eies confesse my former crime And humbly begge vpon my low submission That thou wilt not of former faults detect me But like a louing father now respect me Or as the wife that hath her husband wronged So wil I come with feare and blushing cheeke For giuing others what to thee belonged And say My King my Lord and Spouse most meeke I haue defil'd the bed that thou didst owe Forgiue me this it shall no more be so Yet for the world can witnes mine abuse I le hide my face from face that witcht mine eies These gracelesse eies that had my bodies vse Till it be withred with my verie cries That when my wrinckles shall my sorrowes tell The world may say I ioy'd not though I fell And thus will I in sorrowing spend my breath And spot my face with neuer-dying teares Till aged wrinckles messengers of death Haue purchasde mercy and remou'd my feares And then the world within my lookes shall read The piteous wracke vnbrideled sinne hath bred And that which was a pleasure to beholde Shal be to me an euer-griping paine All my misdeedes shall one and one be tolde That I may see what tyrants haue mee slaine And when I haue thus mustred them apart I will display on each a bleeding hart And lest my teares should faile me at most need Before the face of faith I le fix my Sauiours passion And see how his most pretious side did bleed And note his death and torments in such fashion As neuer man the like did vndertake For freely he hath done it for my sake If this his kindenesse and his mercy showne Cannot prouoke me vnto tender crying Then will I backe againe turne to mine owne Mine owne sinne cause of this his cruell dying And if for them no teares mine eies can find Sighs shal cause tears tears make my poore eies blind No farre fetcht story haue I now brought home Nor taught to speake more language than his mothers No long done Poem is from darkenesse come To light againe it 's ill to fetch from others The song I sing is made of heart-bred sorrow Which pensiue Muse from pining soule doth borow I sing not I of wanton loue-sicke laies Of trickling to yes to feed fantasticke eares My Muse respects no flattring tatling praise A guiltie conicience this sad passion beares My sinne sicke soule with sorrow woe begone Lamenting thus a wretched deede mis-done FINIS