Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	bless_a	lord_n	soul_n	6,252	5	5.0695	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A95611	Ter tria: or the doctrine of the three sacred persons, father, son & spirit. Principall graces, faith, hope, & love. Main duties, prayer, hearing, and meditation. Summarily digested for the pleasure and profit of the pious and ingenious reader. / By Faithfull Teate preacher of the Word at Sudbury in Suffolk.	Teate, Faithful, b. 1621.	1650 (1650)	Wing T617; Thomason E1901_1; ESTC R209946	71,499	206

saith I 'm with you still He shews Hells loss Deaths gate Sins state Spoil'd by his Cross Now is our Sampson got on Gaza's hill To prove my new bought right to ev'ry Nation New tongues I give Unto you Though You drink what 's deadly you shall live Serpents and sicknesses shall know And Devills too that I have wrought Salvation A● many years as Isr'el just had been Christ daies doth spend 'Twixt the Red Sea Of 's bloudy end And Heav'nly Canaan forty daies he 's seen Meanwhile Christ Summons others from the dead To evidence His Resurrection From types from texts from faith from sense Of proofs how full how faire collection Shew'ng Christ is Risen as the Churches head Now O devourer where 's thy victory Out of the grave That old Strong hold And cating cave Comes meat and sweetness which who tasts can't die Ev'n Christ comes thence And now in Olivet Where he laid down In part of pay For th' purchase of his new bought crown His bloody sweat ev'n there this day To see 's Inthronization Saints are me● Wilt thou restore the kingdome Lord they cry To Isr'el yet For you To know Times is not fit I 'll send my spirit that 's my Lords reply O what an eager foolish thing is man Busie to know What least concern him But to take forth alas how slow The lessons that my God would learn him A sieve that lets go th' flow'r but holds the bran Melchisedeck mean time our Priest for ever With lift up hands On his All bliss And grace commands Whom clouds receiving from their sight do sever But not from th' eye of faith which fixedly Pursues their king Till Angels do Tidings of 's second coming bring In such sort as they 'd seen him go Chear up my drooping heart thine head 's on high Yet not so high but that his heart 's as low As still to mind Poor thee Till hee Hath made thee find What for thy gain he sometime did forego Now'● the forerunner ent'red in for thee Thy Lord 's ascended Up and away When Christ first rose this flight he ' ntended And art thou quickned here to stay May all my life but one Ascension bee But I 'm all fits and starts and cannot get Hold of mine own But clouds Prove shrouds And all seemes gone Sometimes I rise with Christ but cannot fit Yet am I fixt whilst Saviour sits in Heaven There are no hills And dales on high My Swampes my Saviours merit fills That all might in a levell lie Making my state though not my comfort even Why art thou then my soul disquieted Christ dwelt in dust As thou Dost now Shall I not trust Him that drank of my brook to lift mine head Is this the Butler that bore Pharaohs cup Though he forgot Joseph i th' Prison When rais'd himself thy Lord will not Reckon that hee 's compleatly risen Till all his foes are down and friends got up Down then thou evill heart of unbelief Thou art a foe To mee I see To him I know A goale would fit thee well for thou' rt a thief Thou pick'st my comforts and thou steal'st his praise His and my loss We lay to thee Betwixt two thieves Christ left one Cross Void that there hanged thou mightst bee Th' arch-thief of all that rob on Gods highwayes Now as Mount Olivet for Sion Mount Thou didst forgo Teach mee Like thee Sweet Saviour so Heav'ns joyes before earths fatness to account I determined not to know any thing save Jesus Christ and him Crucified 1 Cor. 2.2 SPIRIT MY Verse proceeds to him that by proceeding Subsisteth in the Deity But can't proceed without his speeding This Dove doth teach all other birds to fly My callow muse hath pinions but no wings Pinions indeed of ignorance Yet th' Dove that hatcheth other things Can fledge mine infant muse with utterance But th'ther day I saw a Lamb take wing And flie to Heaven from an hill I watcht to see if any thing Would fall from him in flight and found a quill Of which I made a pen and fell to write The story writing found a Verse Whilst on mine hand a Dove did light And had me with the Lamb the Dove rehearse My Master from mine head but th'ther day The Clouds did take unkind or kind For whilest my Master went away His Mantle dropt which whoso seeks may find I seek it Blessed Spirit Come and spread Thy beaming wings and cover me In thy bright light thy Poet lead That in thy light would fain discover thee T is only Sun-shine that can shew the Sun Alas my Lord my spirits flesh Dark-Lanthorn light is next to none My Frost-nipt blooms what Sun-beams can refresh Since then my carnall mind can never shew Or who or what dear Dove thou art The spirit of my mind renew And it shall reimburse what thou It impart Father and Son are God and God's a Spirit And yet Gods Spirit neither is Father nor Son yet doth inherit With both an equall yet distinguish'd bliss Father and Son are God and God is love Yet neither Father nor the Son But their sweet spirit 's the sweet Dove Each hath his Spirit yet they both but one By this eternall Spirit Christ the word Offers himself to God and dies Yet by this Spirit doth affoard Of life unto dead sinners all supplies This Spirit 's infinite oh who can flee His presence and all-searching sight Yet he 's a wind which who can see From whence it comes or whither it takes flight This Spirit 's infinite dwells every where Fathoms all hearts sounds ev'ry deep Yet how few Temples Lord are there Wherein this holy Ghost doth house or keep This active Spirit moves in ev'ry wheel Works as he will doth what he lists Mans heart 's that only brass and steel That the sweet Spirits motions resists This pow'rfull Spirit did the Heavens garnish And doth renew earths with'red face When winter washeth off the vernish And makes a verdant spring in ev'ry place And why not in my soul Awake and blow O North wind and thou South wind come Let all my sweets and spices flow That he that owes my garden may have s me Where the Lords Spirit is there 's liberty Yet a grim Sergeant one day came And neck and heels my soul did tie Saying he did it in the Spirits name He did his ●ffice and would not be brib'd But as his warrant shew'd a writing Spirit of bondage there subscrib'd I spied and found 't was of his own inditing My heart before had been a bird of prey But now bee'ng conquer'd by a Dove I think on 't still how 't sprangling lay Crying for quarter to that bird of love I markt his bill but saw no Olive branch ●eate I implor'd but he deni'd What blood he drew refus'd to stanch Till I submitted to be mortif●ed Dear Dove said I convince me pierce me grieve me Strike through and through this wretched heart So that thou 'lt

but at length relieve me And with thy gentle wings but stroke my smart Dear heart said he I struck thee for to stroke thee Put thee in bonds to set thee free That I might better heal I broke thee I 'm sent to comfort by convincing thee Though I 'm all light and peace yet I did send thee To a dark prison holding over My black rod but it was to mend thee For friends do Fools and Phranticks thus recover Remember man thy wild and Bethlem tricks How oft I strove with the in vain Thine heel could kick against my pricks Sure 't was high time to get thee in a chain Thou and Manasseh stood in much more need Of iron chai●s then chains of Gold Distracted folk must purge and bleed And in their moneths be caught and kept in hold O blessed bonds said I O happy trouble O bitter-sweet sweet-bitter smart My pain was great my profit double Whilst thus thou undertak'st to tame mine heart Void Chymicks spill your Spirits quit your art Cease from your oft sought unfound stone There 's but one Spirit can convert An iron chain into a golden one Dear Dove thy pris'ner may I ever bee Bondage is like to be my state If to my self thou leave me free He 's only free whom thou dost captivate Where the Lords Spirit is there 's liberty No man can say Jesus is Lord But by the Holy Ghost or cry Abba till that sweet Spirit teach that word I was a lisper and a stamerer And could not skill o th' Shibboleth That might my pray'r to God indear Till this free Spirit gave new speech and breath I was a beggar so extreamly poor I skill'd not how to make my moanes But this Dove met me at Gods door Supply'ng my want of words with store of groanes I was in suit and could not well make good My Title But said this free Spirit Soul take this seal the seal of blood I am thy witness and thou shalt inherit I found a riddle whilst I sought a Text But this free Spirit loos'd the knot Which when I h'd read yet what was next Had not this Spirit prompted I 'd forgot My barren grounds were chapt for want of rain Gasping tow'rds Heaven for a flood This Spirit flowing in a main Told me that he had brought me that 's as good I sea the mine heart found so much dross and tin So ●it●●● else I self a mourning Both for my gross and splendid sin Then he to me the spirit was of burning I fell a burning when my God did chide me Water said I or I 'm undone This streaming Spirit streight suppli'd me Till all those scorching flames were quencht and gone I fell a chilling till my heart grew stone Scarse had I left one warm desire My frozen heart was next to none Then said this holy Spirit I am fire I fell a melting when I felt his heat My soul was broached at mine eyes The ice was thawn to tears and swear Which with fresh gales this Spirit gently dries These fontinells thus dri'd pride rais'd a tumour And then the Spirit 's fain to take His Lancet and let out the humour But oh mine heart how did it burn and ake Which this dear Dove perceiving straight way goes T' a precious box and thence applies An ointment made of Sharons Rose Which both the swelling cools and mollifies When I was none this Spirit made me be And live and breath when I was worse For worse then nothing sin made me For my rebuilding freely did imburse My stony heart this spirit harcht to flesh My fleshly heart did circumcise My bleeding heart with balme refresh Those tears that fell from bleeding Saviours eyes In native gore when I polluted lay Hav'ng none to wash to salt to swath me His counsells were my salt that day His lawes my swadling bands his grace did bathe me With milk for Babes this comforter did fill Both Testaments the old and new But how to come by'● I 'd no skill Till he those breasts of consolation drew He took me by the hand and taught me go For I went all by forms before Till's holy unction made me know A new and living way to Fathers door I got upon an hill would fain descry Heav'ns Canaan from earths wilderness But being there could nothing spy Till with his eye salve he mine eyes did dress Over against Heav'ns haven on the shore I stood and waited for a wind Then did this Spirit waft me ore In heart in hope in faith in joy of mind Arithmetick and th' art of measuring I h'd studied but bungled still The measure of a span to bring O● number of my daies I could not skill Then this free Spirit gave a watch to me Which ev'ryday wind up I must To tell me how my time did flee But I forgot and let is stand and rust Then being griev'd that I 'd so direspected Both guift and giver did indeavour To wind it up but t' had collected Such soil as from the wheels I could not sever Then did I moutning to the donour go Confess'd my fault shew'd him the soile It gather'd whilst neglected so Do not despaire said he for I am oyle This is the Spirit of all life and bliss Yet when I felt him first I died The fountain of my life he is Yet but for him I h'd neer been mortified This Spirit in mine heart doth shee l abroad Gods dear and never dying love Yet not a day but his sharp rod Doth me severely chastise and reprove This Spiritrais'd my Christ yet casts me down Doth cast me down and yet uphold Mine humblings are my joy my Crown My fear doth make my faith more firm and bold Calms are not alwayes proffitable for me Therefore the winds are sometimes high This Spirit blusters and is stormy That I might groundfast in humility This Spirit is my good and only guide Yet walk i th' Spirit Scriptures say My conduct and my path beside This Spirit is my Captain and my way Man walk according to thy native light Say some and thou shalt perfect bee Perfect indeed as noon's at night Lord in thy Spirits light light let me see A spirit there 's in man but th' inspiration Of the Almighty only can By no less than a new Creation Enlighten't such a dungeon sin made man Mans spirit is the Candle of the Lord Which who would see by first should light At Gods own fire ev'n Gods own word Gods word 's his mind seat us in black and white For since th' incarnate word his tender love In blood to write us condescends What wonder that his own dear Dove In inke and paper praies us to be friends Nor Son nor Spirit had I understood Bee'ng sunk so deep in sins dark grot Had not the Son took bone and blood Had not the Spirit pen and paper got The Son in humane nature clad doth raise My conscience out of guilts dark grave The Spirit cloath'd in humane

TER TRIA OR THE DOCTRINE OF THE Three Sacred Persons FATHER SON SPIRIT Principall Graces FAITH HOPE LOVE Main Duties PRAYER HEARING and MEDITATION Summarily Digested for the Pleasure and Profit of the Pious and Ingenious Reader By Faithfull Teate Preacher of the Word at Sudbury in Suffolk TRIA SUNT OMNIA LONDON Printed for George Sawbridg at the Sign of the Bible on Ludgate Hill 1658. ILLUSTRISSIMO DOMINO D no Henrico Cromwell DIGNISSIMO HIBERNIAE PRAEFECTO SACROSANCTAE INDIVISAEQUE TRINITATIS CULTORI INDIVISO TRIPLICI DIVINAR m GRATIAR m Coronâ ORNATISSmo TRIBUS Que Apprime Christianis OFFICIIS INTEGERRIME DEDITO TRIPLECEM HANC TRIADEM SACROR m POEMAT m CHRISTIANAE DOCTRINAE SUMMAMIN SUMMAE OBSERVANTIAE TESTIMONIUM Humillm. F. T. L. M. D. D. D. THE AUTHOR TO THE READER OFt have I seen Luxuriant Vitious Wit A wanton Rape on a fair Muse commit At once distaining by leud Poetrie The Writers Paper-sheets and Readers Eye And may not I oblige the thrice three Muses Chastly to serve so Sacred thrice three Uses Is the grave Body of Divinity Less Currant for the feet of Poetry Are Truths for being short and sweet less sound Or streames for running smoothly less profound David a Prophet yet in Verse excels 'T was ECCLESIASTES made the Canticles To the Pious and Ingenious Authour of this Tripartite Poem BEfore your triple Poems I admit These Votes made up of Threes may well be writ May Vnderstanding Will and Memory Know Love and hold thy Sacred Poetry May Heav'n be th' fuller Earth the better Hell The thinner by the Truths you write so well May pride of life the lusts of flesh and eye Be poyson'd by these leaves of thine and die If any other three I 'de wish were down 'T is Austria Spain the Pope with ' striple Crown This latter Vote if th' King of Kings would make An Act I 'de willingly the Earth forsake W. Jenkyn Ingenious Reader SOme few mistakes there are of the Printer that unhappyly hurt the Rithme as with these for withall p. 4. l. 11 c. And some the Reason as p. 20. l 8. Wares for Wars c. With some ●seudographies and mispointings which thine Ingenuity will either Correct or not Impute to thy Friend F. T. Ter Tria FATHER THou that begin'st All things begin my ve●se My words are winde Thy words are works Thou 'lt lightness find Where darkness lurks My Pen and Ink may me not Thee reherse My Pen is but a feather'd vanitie Like mee that write Yet shall this feather If thou 'lt indite Help me flie thither Where Angels wings make ●ens beyond the skie Father mine Inks dark hue presents mine heart Ink's not more dark Ink's not more black One beam one spark Supply this lack Father of Lights now shew thy perfect Art Lord teach me speak and I 'll not hold my peace Which if I should The stones would come Though deaf yet would They not be dumb Break into praises stonie heart for these No man hath seen thee Father but He who Did sometime come Thy Son it was Thy bosom from Thy Looking-glass Hee 's the wise Child that doth his Father know Who else sings Thee sings what he hath not seen My Verse hath feet And fain would run Thy praise to meet But lest the Sun Should hurt weak fight the clouds do interveen Then may I in thy Son thy self discover Sure Hee 's the Mirrour That shews thy face Prevent mine errour Christs flesh like glass A brighter Glory but unseen doth cover Since then I must be silent or begin To sing th' unseen Father of Mercies That set'st the screen Forgive my Verses Oh thou that vail'st their subject vail their sin Father 's a word my child learns first to mutter And thy child too Thy new-born Babe First thing 't can do Is to cry Ab But both come last to know what first they utter Thou art the Father of that Son that made That womb on earth That without Father Did give him birth And might the rather He bee'ng begot where He no Mother had Then shall I call thee Father Lord thy Son Was call'd no less Before his birth Prophets confess He had on earth His children seed and generation Th' Eternall Father call we Thee or rather Thy Child thy Son Born to restore us Thine Holy One Giv'n to us for us I 'll call Thee th' Everlasting Fathers Father All that 's in God is God and needs must bee Thou mad'st mine eye Could'st thou forbear Thy self to spie Or so to rear The blessed Image of thy self in Thee Surely thou could'st no more thy self not view Then Lord not love Thy self when seen From whence thy Dove As hatcht between Thy face and Looking-glass sprung forth and flew Then shall I not beleev Thou' rt One yet Three Father and Son And sacred Spirit That equall run One bliss inherit Lord I 'll believ Thee surely such to bee Yet thou' rt the FATHER still Those sparkling things Are sons of God Those winged flames That flie abroad Thou know'st their names Made without Bodies made all face and wings Faces they have and eyes and tongues with these To see and sing But O their Grace A sixfold wing To ev'ry face Wise happy humble obedientiall Lend's wings dear Dove we lag and lose our traffick Poore short-leg'd Rhymes Verses on foot Reach Seraphims They cannot do 't Lord now if ever make my Muse seraphique Or if I may'nt have wings and so keep sight Of these bright flames Shades of thy glory Yet tell 's their names And tell 's their story And lend's a quill dear Dove and I 'll go write Write Angels Lord 't is done but who are they Servants or sons Subjects or Kings Footstools or Thro●es Inferiour things Or Principalities What shall I say Sometimes I hear thee call them Elohim Yet they were made These plumed things Are but the shade Of thy bright wings Before whose Sun-shine all these Stars are dim Sometimes 't should seem that they but servants are Or Ministers To wait upon Salvations heirs And guard thy Throne Yet these stand cover'd where thy sons stand bare Servants they are and yet Dominions Each holds his Crown By casting it Most humbly down Before thy feet Father thy Throne 's erected on the Thrones Thousands of thousands of these finite Gods On ev'ry side I mean the Cherubs When thou dost ride Some serv for stirrups And some thou holdest in thy hands for rods Arch-Angels Angels that sixwinged Nation Stand trembling Lord Prest to obey Their Makers word And glad they may By all their running but maintain their station These can't forget that early Funerall These can't forget Those morning-Stars That rose and set Whose inbred wars Blew up themselves But oh their fall Yet Thou' rt the FATHER still these Absoloms Their beeings had And beauties Lord But not theit trade Nor Traitours sword From Thee from whom All good and only comes How came these then to fall 't

be Thus on my Cross I work a new Creation Loosing the bands Of sin Within From th' sinners hands My bitter sacrifice brings sweet salvation Thus I give life to others yet I dye I heal their wounds And break their bands Yet anguish mine own soul confounds More then these nailes do pierce mine hands My God! why dost thou me forsake Oh! why They rend my garments cast lots for my coate Whilst I hang here Shame doth Me cloath Else nak'd I were Yonder 's thy Josephs coat Lord dost not know 't The seamless vesture of thy sinless child How bloody is' t My God! My God! Yet not so bloody as thy Christ Is all within by thy sharp rod. O be not fierce to me for I am mild See how I 'm nail'd to this most bitter tree How I 'm accurst How gall Is all My drink in thirst And wilt thou so my God my God! leave mee See how men turn my Glory into shame Mocking my faith And confidence Some say he for Elias pray'th But Lord thou know'st my mind and sense They flout they fleete whilst I call on thy name Yet save me for I 'm thine thine handmaids son Made of this woman Thy shade This maid When known by no man Impow'rd to bring forth me thine holy one Father I 'm the only fatherless on earth All others have Fathers or had O pity pity Lord and save Thy Fatherless support the sad Oh! leave me not in death who gav'st me birth My God! my God! why dost thou me forsake Who never thee Forsook Or took One sin to mee Except the sins that thou didst bid me take They fill the spunge with vinegar but thou My soul dost fill With sharper grief Oh! sinner here 's a bitter pill Yet for thy sickness sweet relief My God! my God! O do not leave me now How darkness vailes the land yet clouds do hover Darker by far Thy wrath Lord hath Eclyps'd thy star Whilst from thy darling thou thy face dost cover How both Suns suffer while thy Son lies under Thy fierce displeasure Th' Sun bears a part But mine eclypse it cannot measure Lord thy sore frowns do teare my heart More then the Temples vaile that 's rent asunder Now come thy breaches and thy darkness on O Jewish Land For thou Hast now Both rid thine hand Of thy bright light and of thy Corner-stone Father the earth 's all ague and I more Ev'n rocks are rent My soul 's more torne Yet flinty Jewes don 't once relent My God leave not mine hope forlone I h've done Lord open th' everlasting Doore Father into thine hands I give my Spirit And utmost breath Whilest I Thus dye And with me death That my dear seed henceforth may life inherit Then Christ in sweet submission bowes his head To all Gods pleasure I think on 't still Lord make the bowing heart my treasure An heart to bow to all thy will That dying I may say all 's finished This done my Saviour quickly shews his force Graves open flie They shake And quake That see him die The rude Centurion's struck with strange remorse Thus Christ le ts loose his pris'ners captivates His scornfull foes They knock their breast Confessing whom they did oppose To be Gods SON now not in jest Thus Sampsons death brake the Phylistians pates Then with a spear his side a Souldier strikes Cleaving the Rock That may Each day Water that Flock Whose Shepheard is now past all push of pikes This is the fountain op'ned for thy sin Jerusalem Thy filth thy guilt Here is for each a proper stream Water and Blood Let none be spilt O quench thy guilt and cleanse thy filth herein Isra'l thy Paschall Lamb thy Christ is dead That Lamb from Heav'n Have care Prepare Purge out thy Leaven Mingle no more thy malice with thy bread Or if the Jewish lump won't leave their leaven Make me leave mine I have in me Lord nail it to this Cross of thine An evill heart of enmity Lord kill this enmity 'twixt Earth and Heaven Be thou my fort and hiding-place my soul Would lodg in thee My Lord Affoard One cleft for mee Thy walls are shatt'red yet thou' rt timber-whole Satan and sin I h've seen i th' Tragick story Shoot through and through Thy blessed heart Yet not one bone was broken though Mount Sinai's Cannons plaid their part In this rock hide me till I h've seen thy Glory Shall not Christ Crucified far dearer be To me then Pelf Then name Or fame Or life it self 'T was thus with Joseph why not thus with me The Souldiers having broke the others leggs But not my Lords Joseph a man Rich in the goods this world affoards But more in faith most boldly ran To Pilate and Christs lifeless body beggs Then in clean linnen wraps that skin and bones That martir'd treasure And why Can't I Take as much pleasure To cloath thy members Lord thy naked ones Jewes now ou● king's come down Sirs do you see him Your Temple lies Flat by the ground Will you believe when 't doth arise Catching your Christ at his rebound Why if his own won't have him Lord give me him Christ having now giv'n death his deadly wound Follows him home Invades Deaths shades Enters a tombe To see what spoils may in a grave be found Great Conquerour who hast kill'd death i th' duel After this art Lodg'd in a stone Rather take up in my poor heart How hard soever or how none Oh! that I were thy Cabinet dear jewell But Josephs rock was pure that grave was new First in a womb Which none Had known Then in a tombe Where none had lain my Lord log'd this doth shew I must be clean and new first Yet thy passion And streame of blood What did it mean That Purple yet a Christ all flood Was 't not the making of me clean Doth not thy rising mean my renovation Then make and take for such this heart of mine And dwell in it This breast Is best That I can get Had I a better Lord it should be thine Surely the King of terrour I could brave If my Lord would This Sepulcher This heart as his own quarters hold I would nor goale nor goaler fear Oh how my Saviours Corps perfume the grave Lord make this heart of mine a living one Through thy deaths merit Convey I pray To me thy spirit Who thy dead flesh didst Coffin in dead stone With th' Arimathean Counsellour combin'd A learned Rabbi To shew Christ kindness An Israelitish Doctor may be Some wiser man will blame my blindness And Antichrist in Law and Learning find But may my soul with blessed Joseph dwell And Nicodem Yet down With th' Gown Cry some of them Who scarce I doubt from these can bear the Bell. A spicie mixture 'bout an hundred pounds Who came by night To Jesus brings T' embalme his Lord that gave him light With Aromatick precious things Y●● not one half so precious as those wounds Now Jesus