Selected quad for the lemma: mercy_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
mercy_n	father_n	holy_a	sinner_n	9,874	5	9.5686	5	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
B01136	A crovvne for a conquerour; and Too late to call backe yesterday. Two poems, the one divine and the other morall. / By R.D.	Davenport, Robert, fl. 1623.; Purslowe, Elizabeth, printer.; Constable, Francis, d. 1647, bookseller.; Davenport, Robert, fl. 1623. Too late to call backe yesterday.	1639 (1639)	STC 6314; ESTC S123099	5,149	21

A CROVVNE FOR A CONQUEROUR AND TOO LATE TO CALL BACKE YESTERDAY Two Poems The one Divine the other Morall By R. D. LONDON Printed by E. P. for Francis Constable and are to be sold at his shop under Saint Martins Church at Ludgate 163● A CROWNE FOR A CONQVEROVR Made apparant in these words Behold I come quickly and my reward is with me REV. 20. 12. BEhold why Lord is thy approach so rare That it deserves an Ecce Ecces are Vshers to admirable things 'T is true If I with spirit-ravish'd Iohn take view Of th●e in thy celestiall seat thy sight Is cleare as Chrystall as the Sardin bright And rounded with a raine-bow twice 12 seates Whereon the shine of thy faire brightnesse beates Bearing these foure and twenty Elders all With white roabes Palmes and Crownes Imperial This sure deserves an Ecce Or at thy last And generall comming Lord when thou shalt cast A●●onishment on all things and descend With an Earth-shaking shout when hils shall bend And rocks dissolve at the Arch-Angels voyce And towers tremble at the Trumpets noyse This sure deserves an Ecce But my Lord Give Dust and Ashes leave to speake afford My frailey so much favour when thou doom'st A sicke Saint on his bed to death and comst In a particular iudgement Lord unfold Where lyes this word of wonder then BEHOLD Christ When your sick saint lyes gasping and his soule Forsaken of the senses when his soule And deadly foe trumphs in h●s temptations And with distrustsand frequent perturbations Buffets his panting faith and shewes his sinnes Had in their circumstances and begins To blast the beauty of his hope from thence Implying that soule pierceing consequence Of condigne iustice from my deserved rod And askes your sick saint where is now thy God Then and even then when his feare shaken faith Save sighes and greanes no plea for pardon hath Even when your saith doth faint and in this throng Of fiery tryals can but truely long For my salvation then when Gyants warre Against his weckenesse when the heathen are Within my heritage his heart and he Looking upon his right hand but can see None that will pitty him and on his left But none compassionates seeming bereft Of helpe and hope then gets his trembling soule To me his God right humbly and doth roule If selfe upon me as the Hart doth pant After the brooke so doth his saith being faint With these hot pursuits thirst for me his God Then lay I by my exercising rod And lend my staffe of comfort this bruis'd reed I breake not but support whilst he doth bleed I bring him balme from Gilead tell me you That modestly yet question'd is there not due To such great grace an Ecce Even when Your Saint lyes languagelesse being left of men Tempted within his faith even like to dye Doth sore-sicke of a spirituall ague lye When nature failes and conscience gives his doome God hath forgot thee then BEHOLD I come J Come TWo wayes I come yet as in fields we see Diverse paths pointed upon one stile be So every way I to mine owne appeare Tends to Eternity First I draw neere By my sweet Spirit the noblest company That can be kept and the deepe mystery Of your sicke Saints salvation he makes plaine Teaching him more then 's whole life could attaine When I bid death goe then I come indeed And shew him my salvation then the good speed Of Faith and Patience comes and makes him cry Oh large rewa●d for little industry Quickly BVt drinke set in a thirsty labourers eye And not in 's reach augments his misery Or say a friend doe bring it each delay Lessens the courtesie and makes more way To tothers torment therefore thou sad soule That sighst to be dissolv'd and do'st condole My long thought stay BEHOLD as I with grace Doe come so I come QVICKLY I whose face The Builders spat on I the refusd stone Their scourge will be to thee a Saviour showne Christian O wounded Master now I know t is thee Eagle-eyed faith informes me she doth see The wide wound in thy side thy holy head Thrust through with thorns when al thy body bled Comst thou deare master comst thou quickly too Look soul what he for whom th' ast sighd doth do He comes and he comes for thee fairely greet him It is the Bridegroome soule goe forth and me●t him And my reward is with me The world saith still The more haste the worse speed Haste makes no waste with me what was decreed To guerdon thy sharp sufferings I have not Sent by a swifter convoy nor forgot As I come quickly so Behold I bring My reward with me Triumph for suffering Christian Thy reward Lord t is thine yet but for mee Thou broughtst it sure if thine t is mine for wee Were long since troth plight to each other wrong I sing else of thee in the sweet Love-songe There I protest in a truth all diuine I my beloveds am and hee is mine But my hearts noble Master what may it bee Thou calst heere thy Reward Me thinks I see In thy white liberall hand a Crowne and set With seuen celestiall stones none counterfet Bearing these names Election Creation Redemption and that midle Iemme Vocation Sanctification Iustification and Glorification Theise seuen stones doe stand About this Crowne more glorious then the stars And this is their Reward die in thy warres For me this crowne oh what sweete paines I prove Grace giues the Wound and I lye sick of Love Alas Lord my vnworthynes Christ Forbeare Though you to Heaven might passe through humble tears Yet in Mee all your worthinesse is come Before my Father I have given in the summe Of all your sufferings all your sighes your teares Your gracious groanings your faith-vanquisht fears Your prayers your almes your earning bowels when Y 'ave knowne me hungry in poore helpelesse men Your pious acts which shall preserve your name Sweet as a perfume in the mouth of Fame What think you this summ'd up in heaven will be Truely the Totall is Eternity Have you not heard of one Onesimus Paul did but write for him I will speake thus For you my deare one Father I beseeche Thy Mercy for this sinner Let my speech Phile Be prevalent as with him was my word Which unto Faith begot him yet afford Mee audience Holy Father in times past He was unprofitable but this last Part of his life full of sincerity Was fruitfull to the faithfull and to me T' was for a season he went from thee sure That thou for ever mightst receive him Cure His wounded conscience and accept him now Not as a servant LORD to him allow The liberty of a beloved Sonne Oh righteous Father if this Saint hath runne In areares with thee if bee owe thee ought Put it to my accounts for I have bought Him highly yet that thou sustaine no losse Deare Father score his debt upon my Crosse Thus will I speak