Selected quad for the lemma: sense_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
sense_n	church_n	rome_n	true_a	4,812	5	5.9762	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A01890	Babels balm: or The honey-combe of Romes religion With a neate draining and straining-out of the rammish honey thereof. Sung in tenne most elegant elegies in Latine, by that most worthy Christian satyrist, Master George Good-vvinne. And translated into tenne English satyres, by the Muses most vnworthy Eccho, Iohn Vicars.; Melissa religionis pontificiae. English	Goodwin, George, fl. 1607-1620.; Vicars, John, 1579 or 80-1652.	1624 (1624)	STC 12030; ESTC S103245	56,801	130

of Teares descries And me my sweet Redeemers thirst euen fries Free me from Death and from lifes guilt me cleare And for my Spots O let Christs Stripes appeare If Christ for 's Seruant vndue debts did pay Let not the Seruant pay what 's payd I pray O Iesus which of heart reines Searcher art To thee I here sacrifice reines and heart I thee beseech euen by thy bloody Sweat Thy Teare● Feares Flouts whom Iewes vniustly beat Let all my hope to thy sure Seale be fixt With none of my selfe-Meri● to be mixt This is my serious pious protestation Confirm'd from false dogmaticke alteration Christ hath ingul●t me in his Sea of Loue. Bare poore impure I 'm here a milke-white Doue Here is my Hope firme Faith Pledge of saluation This this faire foun● flowes to my restauration If th' Ocean of Christs Bloud me all keepe in 'T will purely purge my Blots and Spots of sinne Let this th● this blest Lambe with 's holy hide Cloath me and let me thine O Christ abide Sweet Sauiour of the world Iesus most kinde Let me thy Mercies in thy Merits finde Gold Incense Myrrh of Praise I humbly bring As Lord take Incense Man Myrrh Gold as King What-ere is Thine and thou to th' World mad'st free All those Thy Loue makes proper vnto mee With godlesse Goates adiudge mee not to stand But with thy Sheepe set me at Thy Right Hand Whom Thou held'st deare and deare for me didst pay Now count not Vile as willing my decay For without Thee O Christ I say and shall I either Death deserue or Nought at all But since for vanquisht Me thou' rt Victor-wise My paine is Thine Thy Palme is made my prize My due Deaths-draft O Christ Thou first drank'st vp When Thou for mee didst say Let passe this Cup. O let my Death by thee be Deaths decay And in thy Loue to leaue Life no delay Let Grace be my lifes louely Morning-light Then Glory will beeth ' Euening-Starre most bright By thy deare Death and Life let mee Deaths due Obtaine sure hold on Lifes Hire most vndue And let thy glorious Beames of Goodnesse shine Vpon this sparkling Faith faint heart of mine Yea where all plenteous pleasures from thy Torrent And Loue-Flo●ds flow from thy still-streaming Current Let mee drink deepe from that deepe Spring most cleere And with Thy Blood My thirsty Heart re-cheere Let Thy Death be my Hoste Thy Paines my Pay Thy Crosse my Crowne Thy Sores my Salues alway Whilest Life doth last O Christ I 'le deadly hate Thy Romish Riuall I 'le repudiate Thus then Mans Lies Blasphemies arrogate Merit by 's Workes from Christs Deeds derogate Thus to Mans Merits Christ must now giue place And to Romes Ruler render Throne and Grace And thus Christs godly goodly Vicar hath Gods Power disdain'd prophan'd the Name of Faith His Merits Meritoriously doe Merit That he should Hell but neuer Heau'n inherit For Merits Heau'n Hee 'l sell the Church defile And Christ to Belial Hee dates reconcile O Rome is this thy Zeale thy Church so faire Did Christ charge Peter thus for 's Flocke to care With such Tartarean termes Church-Scourger braue Dar'st Thou Gods Iustice free grace whip depraue If any sense in thy blunt Brest doth stay Antichrists noted Notes these be thou 'lt say But I am hopelesse by my Verse to frame On th' Anuill of thy Heart Sense of thy Shame See then Romes Faith Romes holy Church now see How like to Peters Hee and his Faith bee OF THAT LOVDE LYE AND FOND FICTION OF TRANSVBSTANTIATION THE SIXTH SATYRE The ARGVMENT When I receiue O Christ Thy Body blest The Signes in Substance still the same doe rest ROmes Ten b●rn'd Beast strāge Errors belcheth vp And Heretikes Schismatikes feeds breeds vp More Heresies from Peters proud Chaire spring Than all Church Chappell Pewes could euer bring Much I passe-o're since els my Muse would be Too too prolixe kinde Reader vnto Thee But yet ther 's One sprung from the seuen-fold Whore Prodigious horrid fond ne're found before Amphibious Gorgon whereby Substance slips This this my Tisiphonike Satyre whips Heere hath my Pen large Lists aboundant stuffe Heere to tryumph my Rhyme hath roome enough Heere Waues waues ouerflow Depths inuocate Depths Heer 's a Meane to bee immoderate This nointed big Brood Accher●ntine Crue In 's Masse createth a creator new Surely t is more Christ than a World to make Nor ere did God to make God vndertake But Popish Chymicks make a thousand Gods Priests then are greater gods than God by odds i th' Masse-Priests mouth what so great vertues are That Hee with 's Mouth his God can make and marre Surely hee hath some rare resistlesse power Whereby hee makes and vnmakes God each houre Christs Flesh i th' Masse This Flesh-feeder eats vp And this blood-bibbing Bishop Blood doth sup With Murther stain'd is this Christ-killing Hoste Whilst hee Gods Flesh with 's Fangs to teare doth boaste Indeed besides this Popish Caniball Of Men not God-deuourers read wee shall Grant This grosse Errour and grant thousands mo● Which from this horrid Hydra thick would grow Mee thinkes I see Serpents on Gorgons pate When this Gorgonish Act I meditate This Christ-eater with 's Cyclaps throat wide ope With griping Clawes with grinding Iames the Pope ● Lycaons filthie Feasts doth celebrate And Laestrigons curs'd Cates doth deuourate For Hee to 's holy Cheere inuites most kind Sharpe Teeth good Stomack● but no godly Minde Proud Iayes are they not Eagles which thus dare Forecast to come to eate Christs dainty fare Not Abra'am Patriarchs not blest Prophets all Who yet enioy'd this Man●● Mysticall Could thus eate Christ could thus haue sauing grace For God Mans-Flesh was then found in no place And since by Christ Grace Life 's alike to me Christ to receiue to me like rule let be With mouth and teeth I take not sure Soules meate This with my mind heart Faith I take and eate My Hearing eates my Knowledge Christ doth chew And liuely Faith digests Him in me to I taste Christ with Hearts Pallate there confinde That Feast 's a Fact not of the Mouth but Minde Christs Presence is Faiths Charge Christs reall being Is sure i th' Supper to each firme Faiths Seeing Yea Christ to those that thus belieue is slaine Whose bles● Oblation still doth Faith sustaine Againe each vnbaptized infant small Once borne and washt in the Fount Mysticall Hee should with Christ haue no Community If Corps must Corps Flesh Flesh touch needfully Herod did once but some young Infants smite The Popes opinion damnes All Infants quite Besides Hee which belieues not Christ may eate And thus to Dogs Hogs Mice Christ may bee Meate Yea Iudas thus with Peter hath full share Christs Body is to Both like daintie fare Can hee which is not Christs vpon Christ feede Are God and Satan Partners well agreed Or can Christs Members in Christs Body rot Which bold-fac't Rome to broach abroad

thee telling thy foule crimes And canst thou then other folkes faults forgiue Thou canst thine owne then howsoere they liue Thou canst indeed absolue Absoluers Why Heau'ns kingdomes Key betweene thy lips doth lie For something all things thou 'lt forgiue to All Which for Romes ioyfull Iubiles doe call Thou 'lt loose Omissiue and Commissiue sinne And could Christs Passion greater glory win Canoniz'd Saints are surely sau'd thou 't say Thy selfe vnsure would'st certainly display Dost thou know others yet thy selfe much doubt Are thy eyes bright abroad At home put out Wouldst be beleeu'd but not Thy-selfe beleeue Though wise to others thou 'lt thy selfe deceiue See here the triple Crownes decree deuine See Popes Petrean-faith Saint Peters Shrine Art thou not right Bezalels typed Temple Babel Gods Arke may heare with like example Of this Browne-Bran for here 's not least fine Flower Dogmaticke dunghils Popes to make haue power What need I name each worship-new vaine Rite Whereby true worship is euen buried quite Romes Mother-Church is big with foolerie With faithlesse Faith and impious Pietie For the most part Papisme is Paganisme Fertile yea ranke in rotten new-found Schisme O impious Idolizing Papists graue Is God your God who many Gods may haue Whiles you lie snorting th' Enuious Man keeps watch And Satan so you oft with scoffes doth catch Vaine silly Superstition songs doth mutter And dayly Prayers by numbred Beads doth vtter But I shall shew in more conuenient place The noyse and toyes of Romish Quires most base Meane while What does our Clergie-Master see How playes he Peters part How flockes Feeds he Surely this Care who will may take in hand Himselfe i th' Church treble-Head-Stone doth stand And in this Sense I say and euer shall The Pope's a Rocke liuely Grammaticall And I will wager now with any one That than the Pope Nothing 's more like a Stone He 's hush in Words but Swords he 'le brandish braue In Loue Stone-heart in Hate Wraths part he 'le haue He sends forth Threats suspends milke Teats and thus Fauours Gods flock thus is Religious Paul sure that Patterne of a Pastor good Nor Peter thus their dueties vnderstood Doubtlesse whilst he Kingdomes loose shackles shakes His Kings most blinde to Warres and Iarres he makes While these his restlesse Cares all rest deny Iustly this loue sleight sacred Cares may fly If thou reuise each annuall act and deed None of them shew one Pope his flocks to feed And this Vice-Christ herein Christ imitates With a few Loaues thousands he satiates Good Shepheards more than Life their Flocks doe prize The Pope his Flockes vnder all vilifies Ah ignorant base dull blinde vulgar Rout To whom the Lampe of Light and Truth 's put out O how your day is darknesse Guides misguide Hearts rough Minde tough Hope vaine Faith foolified Thousand Goth-like Vandall-like villanies Mongst thousands of Popes people Tyrannize At Rome huge bands of Vagrants vaine there be Which breake Christs Sabbaths in loose company Shepheards may keepe the Erymanthean Beare As well as Popes Christs Flocks deuoyd of care He which i th' Church will haue nor Blinde nor Lame In holy'st duties he 's in Both the same Implicite faith to hold they hold most holy And Ignorance chiefe Pietie not Folly This is no holy Fatling but leane lanke This is not Peoples power but Poyson ranke Thus in Soule-captiu'd flocks is Popes delight Like the Cyclopean Troops bereft of sight Whilst he by Images would people teach Himselfe 's an Image he 'le not to them preach While his externall Temple's glorious gay He suffers Gods true Temple to decay And while he may wallow in worldly pelfe Farewell poore Christ He 's neerest to himselfe Yea fare thou well that thy Priest well may be For if thou first doe well then sure will he Bread to be made of Stones with Stygian skill And men t'eate Stones in Statues is his will Cease Questionist t' enquire of faith sincere Rome holds it fittest faith confounded were This high Priest of Romes sacred Rites indeed His feeble flockes with frothy milke doth feed Impostour Pastor Doctor Deceiuer great Is there in thy Sheep-fold such holy meat Whiles thou dost thus soules feed or rather starue Giue Satan Them the Rest to thee reserue Since in Gods Church th' art rough Marpesias rocke Why then should stupid I trust such a stocke Should men thee trust as thou thy selfe dost trust Trust me who trusts thee is a mad man iust People trust Priests Priests Bishops trust I hope Prelates trust Councels Councels trust the Pope Let all opinions t' ones opinion trust Then but one flocke one faith needs be there must Is This faiths golden Syntaxe firmely true Commend it first t' a Turke or faithlesse Iew. Now great Priests-Prelate by thy mitred pleasure Declare mo Confectaries of thy Treasure If thou faiths Cacodocuments wilt shew me A triple-fitted Crest I le wish vnto thee Rome being drunke with sacred Saints deare blooe Worshippeth Saints with Rites ne're vnderstood Truely thou sayst and we the Truth must trust Thou then when I speake true beleeue me must The Popes by rules of Romes Religion old Farre lesse loue Saints than Strumpets base and bold Vnder Christs name many foule contraries To Christ this cunning craftsman doth deuise On Satans Boxes he subscribes Christs name With paliated Fraud Gods Flocke to shame The people eate poyson with paint surrounded And venome drinke with Antidotes compounded Vice-Christ adores Christs name not Deitie Keeps lesse of Christs than Peters memorie To Peter Temples Feasts Fasts makes erects Peter to be Faiths Rocke he most affects Peter aliue would not be worshipt Now To 's Image as to God being dead they bow The Saints aliue were clad in meane aray Their pictures Puppet-like are wondrous gay A Maide is made Mans Sauiouresse diuine And She by right her Sonne can ought enioyne Nor is Romes sect the Mother 's so ador'd With Christs as Maries worshippers so stor'd Heau'ns kingdome Christ did with his Mother share Kept halfe himselfe and halfe to her did spare Gods Daughter by pure fruite of most pure birth Excels the louely Lillies of the Earth Fairer then Phiebus than full Phoebe whiter Cleerer than Starres than braue Aurora brighter Seas Starre Suns Patronesse Heau'ns golden-gate Transparent Spring Rose most intemerate Poore wretches Ioy Anchor Hauen blest Blast Hope And What Not Is Shee to th' plumbeous Pope She which to th' World brought forth the promis'd Seed Tooke from the World almost what Eue did breed The Pope falne backe to Heretikes old Toyes Heresies fragments to re-boile much ioyes In golden Cups Hee deadly poyson quaffes And in braue Bowles to slay poore Soules He laughes Is Christ Med'atour Why then seek'st thou More Yes Popelings thousands haue thousands adore O fond besotted Papists deafe dull blinde Can one such madnes 'mongst the Heathen find This Hellish Hangman Mart'ricide most fierce Worshippeth many a Martyrs painted Herse This Faiths

shames not O Mad Religion strange Diuinity Clergies faire Helon Popes fond Fantasie Bread makes a God as Mice may Ca●●ls make Not so The Popes opinion wee mistake But Sure although the Trid●●●-Councell wise The same to Christs Guests more than once denies The same meanes which in Baptisme Christ containes The same i th' Supper also Christ retaines This feeds That breeds by Christs Concorporation I 'm Bred and Fed by the same Obligation Symbolik● Signes we all in Baptisme see Therefore the Signes i th' Supper vnchang'd bee In Christ I liue as I of Christ am made What Grace conuerts concernes mee as is said Vnion giues Life Communion It sustaines That was the Spirits This still the Spirits remaines But truely truely for this truth 's most true And Faith to be Truths Daughter ought most due What 's made of Bread o th' Virgin is not made Nor was Christs Being from a Bread-corne blade Nor was the Promis'd Seed of Graines weake power Nor Mary blest a Mother of fiue Flower Nor did the Roote of les● beare ●ares of Corne Nor was I●d's Li●● of Land-Acres borne Nor Floods on C●r●s Bi●th the Dragon shed Nor could a Wheat-Eare breake the Serpe●t● Headpunc Besides I feele this bruis'd assum'd consum'd Where was Christ● Body then may 't be presum'd Absurdly ●bsurd Fooles absurd things reach And to th' Absurd absurd opinions preach Out Field is fil'd with troopes of Reasons good Which Popish Parad●xe● make to skud When Christ Himselfe the Bread of Life did name Before and after that Christ was tho S●me Christ is a Vine the Ways the Life who euer In Him gr●●bes g●es li●●s f●des wanders die● neuer Thus Christ saies of himselfe yet I suppose Of Way ●me Life no Transi●●●●tio● ro●e Why then i th' Supper should a change be made 'Cause Christ of Bread This is my Body said What if huge Heapes of Loaues were consecrated Must all to Flesh be forth-with Transmutated What if a Groomes Horse-Bread b● conse●red Will it straight into Flesh be altered What if the holy-Hoste be eate in Lent Will it be turn'd to Flesh incontinent At that time I thinke rather t is Fish made For Flesh to eate in Lens Popes haue gaine said How well Romes Pythagorean Foole doth act Does things forbidden forbids his owne Fact T is Witty Folly Fathers foolish Wit To Stab his ●tatutes his Births heart to split This Popish Metamorphosis most vi●d Hath Natures Lawes puld downe Gods Lawes defil'd Faiths Nerues and ioynts it reaues and cleaues in sunder And brings in Doctrines●ew ●ew with hideous wonder These working-Words This i● my Body They No Type or mysticke meaning haue doe say Yet heer 's a Trope for heer 's a Transmutation Thus they deny euen their owne affirmation Truth 's Force and Strength is great most certainely And makes Hi● Foes hir praise to testifie Thus oft-times Thieues fatally faults confesse Traitors owne mouthes their trecheries expresse For Sacraments the Papist placeth Toyes And for a Trope Tropicall Trickes employes Deiects what Hee erects grants what 's gain-said Puls downe the House which his owne Hands haue made Peruerse Conuersion doth peruert Sense sound An impious Glosse doth Truths pure Gl●sse confound For forced by the words true force and scope The Test'ment cald a Cup they say's a Trope And why i st not a Trope when Bread is nam'd Christs body is here other speech forme from'd He 's non-plusd now his fond opinion frights him And Heresies owne hand herear euen smites him Incredulous quite faithlesse may I be Y'ere I dull Papist fixe my Faith to thee Many such false fain'd Iliads yet haue I All which to whip one day cannot supply Not all of Christ but whole Christ each where stayes This ancient Fathers faith affirmes and sayes If then Christs flesh be not in eu'ry place Sure 't is not flesh i th' Masse in any case If Bread it be and must his Body be Then of his Body 't is no Signe to me The Body 's not the Type the Type It shades If things themselues be Types the Type then fades All other holy things their Signes ne're change That Signes change onely here Is it not strange Surely these pendent Seales assure alone That Promise which Gods Word had me fore-showne And sacred Seales their Patents ne're oppose Therefore both Signe and Substance Christ enclose But by the Word our Mouthes must not Christ chew This Supper then Words Seale makes not this true This Reason's Eagle-ey'd in truth quicke-sighted And what It sees is quickly erudited This Reason seemes with radient Sun-beames written With so pure Light the sight is thereby smitten But now here 's one and one in stead of All Which thunder-throttles Romes faith mysticall If vnder shew of Bread Christs flesh be made Are snares of death in this flesh closely laide Henrie the seuenth Emp'rour of Germanie By Poyson in a Masse foule fact did die But sure Christs flesh with Poyson ne're was mixt True Life not Death is to Christs flesh affixt T is strange Christs flesh i th' Poyson did not die When venome in that Murthering-Masse did lie I wonder when the Frier i th' Fier did throw The Host whether Christs Flesh he did it know Fond foole thy learned lectures thee confound And thine owne cords haue thee in snares fast bound What need I striue t' oppose Thee with my Shield When thine owne Sword wounds Thee wins Me the field If consecrated-Bread so altera●e That Masse-Priests may God to Christs flesh create As many Lo●●es so many Bodies be As many Bit● so many God● we see And when Christ first his Body made our meate He did himselfe in forme and substance eate For what he to his twelue-Disciples gaue Himselfe I thinke did eate This all Feasts craue And sure that Vine whose Wine Christ then did drinke Gaue plentie of our Sauiours Bloud I thinke And euen so oft as Bi●s Christs Body bee So oft his Soule from 's Body torne hath he For I beleeue his Soule they cannot bake Their foule-mouth'd-Masse thereof no power can take If Thou 'lt on points as Vowels Vassall stand And not permit true iudgement thee command As Bread Christs Body is witnesse Gods Writ So is the Cup his Bloud Truth prouing it Any Cup forg'd by any any Art To th' Testament in Christs bloud doth conuert Nor was O Christ blest Marie more thy Mother Than Goddesse-Masse would be to thee another Nor were thy Bones O Christ broke on the Crosse But Popelings Teeth bruise breake them short as Mosse Nor could one Body all Christs Guests suffice To take least part thereof their Soules chiefe price And whilst heau'n earth at once this flesh containe His flesh continuous Christ cannot retaine And mouldie Bread we all know Wormes will breed Which from Christs Flesh 't is plaine cannot proceed And Wine kept long in Cups will sure waxe tart But thy sweet Bloud O Christ still cheeres my heart And in thy hand crucifi'd flesh didst keepe