Selected quad for the lemma: nature_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A57222
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Poems sacred and satyricale
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Richards, Nathanael, ca. 1600-1652.
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1641
(1641)
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Wing R1372; ESTC R34569
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44,591
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198
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and which makes it worse The Conscience corrosive confounding witt The minds Canker soules burning Feaver fitt Mong all enticemcuts pleasures quassing Boule All the sharpe combats of a Christian soule None feircer then the warrs of a Chast mind Ther 's a continuall Fight which good Men find Never subdu'd without wet eies true care In praying Why the victory is rare Chastities still in danger 'mong delights As Truth in much talke Souldiers in fierce sights The walls of Chastity once batter'd downe Maides loose their Honour Vertues rich renowne O Lust what 's thy delight thy full fruition Of Pleasure but the Path way to Perdiiton Seandall dishonour foule reproach and shame Will blast thy being blot out thy good name O happie is that Man happie the Maide That 's Chast cleare consciences are ne'r afraid Of Iudgement Death and hell no sad affright Tortures the mind that 's chast ther 's true delight Witnesse the two-fold feare that do's belong To Chastity and Lust feare to doe wrong And grieve her Husband is the chast wises part She feares her slack of Love lest he depart Gives no crosse words no angry lookes nor sowre Nor do's she seeme to lumpe to powte to lowre She feares t' offend her husband shunnes all strife Togaine his Presence which she loves 'bove life But the lewd Harlot when her Mate's from home Feare makes her wish that he might never come Lest his approach unlook't for terrifie And catch her in her base Adultery Shee 's fill'd with feare doubts starts least creeke o' th doore O 't is a dreadfull sinne to be a Whore Beauty in the Face and Lust within the heart Kills Soule and Body ruines ev'ry part Strike me Eternall Essence with the dart Of Saint-like Chastitie give me a heart Of flesh so chastly pleasing that poore I May live in Chastity a chast soule die Midnights-Meditation VVHen I contemplate Heav'n and take no care For worldly vanities then my soule how farre How amorously faire thou art destroying sinnes Man 's a rich Monarch then true joy beginnes Never till then never did any fight ' Gainst sinne but gain'd unspeakeable delight This when I thinke upon and practise too Heav'ns in my eye want nor the worst of woe Distracts my senses but when I roote my mind On this rude world Vertue is soone strooke blind Witt reason all my senses are confounded Devills assault my flesh my soule is wounded Save me O save me Lord thy worthlesse Creature Pittie the weakenesse of my Mortall nature Forgive all forfeitures my sinnes have made Vowes Promises protestations never paid I promis'd still to mend to turne mine eyes From sinfull wales yet Heav'n knowes all were lies Shame to my soule how dare I then looke up Expect least solace from sweete Mercies Cup O I am angry vext to th' very heart I act not thy will Lord but mine owne part A sinfull Tragicke Part which will deface My soule helpe Heav'n send thy restraining Grace One Drop of Grace Celestiall can refresh A fainting soule cleanse Lord my corrupt flesh Vn-storme sinnes sulphurous storme I burne I fry Like the impatient Fish which violently Scorch't to the quick it's raging heate to tame Leaps from the Pan into the burning flame Such is the flaming Torture I endure Scorcht for my sinnes where shall I fly for cure Want is a Mis'rie much Wealth a trouble Honour a burthen Beautie but a bubble Pleasure a shadow advancement dangerous Friendship a false Winde and disgrace odious This world of sinne circles my braine with snares A thousand distractions Millions of cares Beates on the Anvile of my poore weake head To ruine sense to strike all good thoughts dead Oft musing on the Worlds Witch-pleasing pelfe I thus beginne to argue with my selfe Why might not I be Rich rush God do's see This meane estate of mine fitter for me Then I collect my Spirits praise that God Which keepes me still unscourg'd restraines the Rod Of his just Vengeance that might justly fall On me and mine in Iustice ruine all Had I the Worlds possession in my hand All Potentates on Earth at my command What then I then subject to all entices Might fill my little-world with World of Vices It is enough I live and 't is too much That I am fed or cloathed if I grutch My daies of sinne encrease wax worse and worse Whither O whither shall I direct my course Downe downe foule flesh great God my selfe I blame I aske thy pardon asking in his name That is my Life the Light the Way the Word Mercy and Truth faire Truth which do's afford Mercy to all onely prescribes this taske That whatsoever Mortall soules do aske The Father in his Name it shall be done To glorifie the Father in the Sonne O infinite sweetnesse O Immortall love Thou God the Father that dost rule above The Highest Heav'ns Thee in the blessed Name Of Jesus Christ Theanthropos that came To save beleeving soules I aske implore Pardon O pardon out with sinnes rotten core Rooted too neare my heart whisper thy feare Into my soule let me not onely heare Thy sacred word but in the practicke part Make perfect use of it nere let me start From thee my God let sad Teares from mine eyes And sighes from my heart expresse my grievancies Though I fall foule and fearefully each day Lord let me not fall finally away And I if needs must fall let my fall be From death to life from sinne to sanctity Amor Dei amorem Deo parit The Divine Dreame VVOrme that I am O how shall I begin To praise that God that in my sleepe ' gainst sin Gave divine warning sent truths sacred scrole Which to and fro hovring i' th' Ayre did role This way and that at last as if Heav'ns will Had so decreed the waving scrole stood still Much like the golden Taper of the Sun At the command of Man the sonne Nun In which me thouht I read and read it ore Peccair no majs that is sinne no more Written in Spanish this seeming sight so strange Workt in my dreaming spirit such a change That startling from my drowsie sleepe I cride To heav'n thus instantly with Teares repli'd O sacred Saviour humbly I implore Give me the spirit of Grace to sinne no more For I am blind sinne clouds my sence of seeing Thy good my ill I 'me Natures brittle being Vext to the soule so infinitely opprest With sighes and groanes they cannot be exprest What shall I doe great Natures miracle Thou onely wise God Heav'ns firme Oracle Fashion me to thy will tip out with the core Of sinne in me that I may sinne no more Say to my soule lest I in soule despaire Thy grace sufficient is Cure Lord my care Speake but the word at the Centurion said Thy servant shall he heal'd Lord be my aid No Rod so sharpe nor no discase so sore But thy good Grace can cure to sinne no more Thou Lord by holy Text confirm'd dost say