Selected quad for the lemma: son_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
son_n	mercy_n	miserable_a	sinner_n	20,907	5	11.5690	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A68624	Emblemes by Fra: Quarles	Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650, engraver.; Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644. Hieroglyphikes of the life of man. aut; Simpson, William, fl. 1635-1646, engraver.	1639 (1639)	STC 20542; ESTC S115515	99,172	392

soule shall smart My heart shall bleed for thine Sin O ground-lesse deepes O love beyond degree Th' offended dies to set th' offender free S. AUGUST Lord if I have done that for which thou mayest damne mee thou hast not lost that whereby thou mayest save me Remember not sweet Jesus thy justice against the sinner but thy benignity towards thy Creature Remember not to proceed against a guilty soule but remember thy mercy towards a miserable wretch Forget the insolence of the provoker and behold the misery of the invoker for what is Jesus but a Saviour ANSELM Have respect to what thy Sonne hath done for me and forget what my sinnes have done against thee My flesh hath provoked thee to vengeance let the flesh of Christ move thee to mercy It is much that my rebellions have deserved but it is more that my Redeemer hath merited EPIG 10. Mercie of mercies He that was my drudge Is now my Advocate is now my Iudge He suffers pleads and sentences alone Three I adore and yet adore but One. XI Let not the water-flood overflow me neither let the deepe swallow me vp Ps 69.15 Will Simpson sculpsit XI PSAL. LXIX XV Let not the water-flood over-flow me neither let the deepes swallow me up THe world 's a Sea my flesh a ship that 's man'd With lab'ring Thoughts and steer'd by Reasons hand My heart 's the Sea-mans Card whereby she sailes My loose Affections are the greater Sailes The Top-saile is my Fancy and the Gusts That fill these wanton Sheets are worldly Lusts Pray'r is the Cable at whose end appeares The Anchor Hope nev'r slipt but in our feares My Will 's th'unconstant Pilot that commands The staggring Keele my Sinnes are like the Sands Repentance is the Bucket and mine Eye The Pumpe unus'd but in extreames and dry My conscience is the Plummet that does presse The deepes but seldom cryes A fathom lesse Smooth Calm's security The Gulph despaire My Freight's Corruption and this life 's my Fan My soule 's the Passenger confus'dly driven From feare to fright her landing Port is Heaven My seas are stormy and my Ship does leake My Saylers rude My Steersman faint and weake My Canvace torne it flaps from side to side My Cable's crakt my Anchor 's slightly ty'd My Pilot's craz'd my shipwrack sands are cloak'd My Bucket's broken and my Pump is choak'd My Calm's deceitfull and my Gulph too neare My Wares are flubber'd and my Fare's too deare My Plummet's light it cannot sink nor sound O shall my Rock-be threatned Soule be drown'd Lord still the seas and shield my ship from harme Instruct my Saylours guide my Steersmans Arme Touch thou my Compasse and renew my Sailes Send stiffer courage or send milder gales Make strong my Cable bind my Anchor faster Direct my Pilot and be thou his Master Object the Sands to my more serious view Make sound my Bucket bore my Pump anew New cast my Plummet make it apt to try Where the Rocks lurke and where the Quicksands lie Guard thou the Gulph with love my Calmes with Care Cleanse thou my Freight accept my slender Fare Refresh the Sea-sick passenger cut short His Voyage land him in his wished Port Thou thou whom winds and stormy seas obay That through the deepes gav'st grumbling Isr'ell way Say to my soule be safe and then mine eye Shall scorne grim death although grim death stand by O thou whose strength-reviving Arme did cherish Thy sinking Peter at the point to perish Reach forth thy hand or bid me tread the Wave I le come I le come The voice that calls will save S. AMBROS Apol. post pro David Cap. 3. The confluence of lusts make a great Tempest which in this sea disturbes the sea-faring soule that reason cannot governe it S. AUGUST Soliloq Cap. 35. We labour in a boysterous sea Thou standest upon the shore and seest our dangers Give us grace to hold a middle course betwixt Scylla and Charybdis that both da●gers escaped we may arrive at our Port secure EPIG 11. My soule the seas are rough and thou a stranger In these false coasts O keepe aloofe ther 's danger Cast forth thy Plummet see a rock appeares Thy ship wants sea-roome Make it with thy teares XII O that thow wouldst protect me in the graue and hide me ontill thy furie be past Iob 14 Will simpson sculp XII IOB XIV XIII O that thou wouldst hide mee in the grave that thou wouldst keepe me secret untill thy wrath be past O Whether shall I flye what path untrod Shall I seeke out to scape the flaming rod Of my offended of my angry God Where shall I sojourne What kind sea will hide My head from Thunder where shall I abide Vntill his flames be quench'd or laid aside What if my feet should take their hasty flight And seeke protection in the shades of night Alas no shades can blind the God of Light What if my soule should take the wings of day And find some desart if she spring away The wings of vengeance clip as fast as they What if some solid Rock should entertaine My frighted soule Can solid Rocks restraine The stroke of Iustice and not cleave in twaine Nor Sea nor Shade nor Shield nor Rock nor Cave Nor silent desarts nor the sullen grave Where flame ey'd fury meanes to smite can save The Seas will part graves open Rocks will spl●t The shield will cleave the frighted shadowes flit Where Iustice armes her fiery darts must hit No no if sterne-brow'd vengeance meanes to thunder There is no place above beneath nor under So close but will unlocke or rive in sunder 'T is vaine to flee 'T is neither here nor there Can scape that hand untill that hand forbeare Ah me where is he not that 's every where 'T is vaine to flee till gentle mercy show Her better eye the farther off we goe The swing of Iustice deales the mightier blow Th' ingenious child corrected does not flie His angry mothers hand but clings more nigh And quenches with his teares her flaming eye Shadowes are faithlesse and the rockes are false No trust in brasse no trust in marble walls Poore Cotts are e'ven as safe as Princes Halls Great God there is no safety here below Thou art my Fortresse though thou seem'st my foe 'T is thou that strik'st the stroke must guard the blow Thou art my God by thee I fall or stand Thy Grace hath giv'n me courage to withstand All tortures but my Conscience and thy Hand I know thy Iustice is thy selfe I know Iust God thy very selfe is mercy too If not to thee where whether should I go Then worke thy will If passion bid me flee My Reason shall obey my wings shall be Stretcht out no further than from Thee to Thee S. AUGUST in Psal 30. Whether flie I To what place can I safely flie To what mountaine To what den To what strong house What Castle shall I hold What walls shall hold me Whethersoever

are our Traffick and ensnare Our soules the threefold subject of our Care We toyle for Trash we barter solid Ioyes For ayry Triffes sell our Heav'n for Toyes We snatch at Barly graines whilst Pearles stand by Despis'd Such very Fooles are Thou and I Aym'st thou at Honour Does not th'Ideot shake it In his left hand Fond man step forth and take it Or wouldst thou Wealth See how the foole presents thee With a full Basket if such Wealth contents thee Wouldst thou take pleasure If the Foole unstride His prauncing Stallion thou mayst up and ride Fond man Such is the Pleasure Wealth and Honour The earth affords such Fooles as dote upon her Such is the Game whereat earths Ideots flie Such Ideots ah such Fooles are thou and I Had rebell-mans Foole-hardinesse extended No further than himselfe and there had ended It had beene Iust but thus enrag'd to flie Vnon th' eternall eyes of Majesty And drag the Son of Glory from the brest Of his indulgent Father to arrest His great and sacred Person in disgrace To spit and spaule upon his Sun-bright face To taunt him with base termes and being bound To scourge his soft his trembling sides to wound His head with Thornes his heart with humane feares His hands with nayles and his pale Flanck with speares And then to paddle in the purer streame Of his spilt Blood is more than most extreame Great Builder of mankind canst thou propound All this to thy bright eyes and not confound Thy handy-worke O canst Thou choose but see That mad'st the Eye Can ought be hid from Thee Thou seest our persons LORD and not our Guilt Thou seest not what thou maist but what thou wilt The Hand that form'd us is enforc'd to be A Screene set up betwixt thy Work and Thee Look looke upon that Hand and thou shalt spy An open wound a Through-fare for thine Eye Or if that wound be clos'd that passage be Deny'd betweene Thy gracious eyes and me Yet view the Scarre That Starre will countermand Thy Wrath O read my Fortune in thy Hand S. CHRYS Hom. 4. Ioan. Fooles seeme to abound in wealth when they want all things they seeme to enjoy happinesse when indeed they are onely most miserable neither doe they understand that they are deluded by their fancy till they be delivered from their folly S. GREG. in Mor. By so much the more are we inwardly foolish by how much we strive to seeme outwardly wise EPIG 2. Rebellious foole what has thy Folly done Controld thy GOD and crucified His Son How sweetly has the LORD of life deceiv'd thee Thou shedst His Blood and that shed Blood has sav'd thee III. Haue mercy on me o L d for I am weake o L d heale me for my bones are vexed Ps ●2 III. PSAL. VI.II. Have mercy Lord upon me for I am weake O Lord heale me for my bones are vexed Soule Iesu● Soul AH Son of David help Ies What sinfull crie Implores the Son of David Soul It is I Ies Who art thou Soul Oh a deepely wounded brest That 's heavy laden and would faine have rest Ies I have no scraps and dogs must not be fed Like houshold Children with the childrens bread Soul True Lord yet tolerate a hungry whelp To lick their crums O Son of David help Ies Poore Soule what ail'st thou Soul O I burne I fry I cannot rest I know not where to fly To find some case I turne my blubber'd face From man to man I roule from place to place T' avoid my tortures to obtaine reliefe But still am dogg'd and haunted with my griefe My midnight torments call the sluggish light And when the morning 's come they woo the night Ies Surcease thy teares and speake thy free desires Soul Quench quench my flames swage these scorching fires Ies Canst thou believe my hand can cure thy griefe Soul Lord I believe Lord helpe my unbeliefe Ies Hold forth thy Arme and let my fingers try Thy Pulse where chiefly does thy torment lie Soul From head to foot it raignes in ev'ry part But playes the selfe-law'd Tyrant in my heart Ies Canst thou digest canst relish wholesome food How stands thy tast Soul To nothing that is good All sinfull trash and earths unsav'ry stuffe I can digest and relish well enough Ies Is not thy blood as cold as hot by turnes Soul Cold to what 's good to what is bad it burnes Ies How old 's thy griefe Soul I tooke it at the Fall With eating Fruit. Ies 'T is Epidemicall Thy blood 's infected and th' Infection sprung From a bad Liver 'T is a feaver strong And full of death unlesse with present speed A veine be op'ned Thou must die or bleed Soul O I am faint and spent That Launce that shall Let forth my blood le ts forth my life withall My soule wants Cordials and has greater need Of blood than being spent so farre to bleed I faint already If I bleed I die Ies 'T is either thou must bleed sick soule or I My blood 's a Cordiall He that sucks my veines Shall cleanse his owne and conquer greater paines Than these Cheere up this precious Blood of mine Shall cure thy Griefe my heart shall bleed for thine Believe and view me with a faithfull eye Thy soule shall neither languish bleed nor die S. AUGUST lib. 10. Confess Lord Be mercifull unto me Ah me Behold I hide not my wounds Thou art a Physician and I am sicke Thou art mercifull and I am miserable S. GREG. in Pastoral O Wisedome with how sweet an art does thy wine and oyle restore health to my healthlesse soule How powerfully mercifull how mercifully powerfull art thou Powerfull for me Mercifull to me EPIG 3. Canst thou be sick and such a Doctor by Thou canst not live unlesse thy Doctor die Strange kind of griefe that finds no med'cine good To swage her paines but the Physicians Blood IV. Looke ●pon my Afflictiō mi●●●y forgiue mee all my Sinne 〈…〉 IV. PSAL. XXV XVIII Looke upon my affliction and my paine and forgive all my sinnes BOth worke and stroakes Both lash and labour too What more could Edom or proud Ashur doe Stripes after stripes and blowes succeeding blowes Lord has thy scourge no mercy and my woes No end My paines no ease No intermission Is this the state Is this the sad condition Of those that trust thee Will thy goodnesse please T' allow no other favours None but these Will not the Rethrick of my torments move Are these the symptoms these the signes of love Is' t not enough enough that I fulfill The toylsome task of thy laborious Mill May not this labour expiate and purge My sinne without th' addition of thy scourge Looke on my cloudy brow how fast it raines Sad showers of sweat the fruites of fruitlesse paines Behold these ridges see what purple furrowes Thy plow has made O thinke upon those sorrowes That once were thine wilt wilt thou not be woo'd To