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Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	body_n	life_n	soul_n	34,804	5	5.7811	4	true

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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A67822	The idea of Christian love being a translation, at the instance of Mr. Waller, of a Latin sermon upon John xiii, 34, 35, preach'd by Mr. Edward Young ... ; with a large paraphrase on Mr. Waller's poem Of divine love ; to which are added some copies of verses from that excellent poetess Mrs. Wharton, with others to her.	Young, Edward, 1641 or 2-1705.; Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. Of divine love.; Wharton, Anne, 1632?-1685. Poems. Selections.	1688 (1688)	Wing Y61; ESTC R14445	29,505	144

Unto those Beauties only Thought can reach Thought which but dully dictates to the Speech Yet Thought must here its Poverty confess You need not blush should my enlightned Eyes Behold that charming Dress Your Soul put on when it came cloath'd to view The Garment must its Innocence express And like your Lines inspire With Love and Rev'rence too A Love without a bold Desire A Lambent Flame Such as gives Light and Warmth but ne're consumes The Light of Heav'n from whence it came Here none t' approach presumes With Fire less hallow'd than he lays Upon the Altar when he prays Incense more pure t' a sacred Poetess is due Than from the Heathen-world their chast Diana drew V. Heav'n seems to open Angels to come down In lovely Vehicles of thick'ned Air And with a Glory ' stead of Lawrel crown The Azure Temples of the teaching Fair While Men with Extasy attend her Lays Divinely set to the Almighty's Praise As Grace on Earth of endless Bliss Your happy Verse the Incoati'on is Of that in which you shall with Angels join When you above the Stars shall shine Free from Pain and free from Fear With ev'ry Object of your Care Where only Love and Harmony appear The Love and Harmony Immortal and Divine VI. Sense of your own Pity of others Wrong Shall give no Interrupti'on to your Song The ways of Providence so dark Not to be toucht by Hand prophane Lest we with Uzza's Guilt have Uzza's Pain Who fondly thought to help the tottring Ark You there will see the Clouds away In that bright everlasting Day Worthy of God and of that Love With which he cherishes frail Mortal Race Whom of the do's with temp'ral Evils prove Tries and Refines them in Afflicti'on's Fire Until they 're fitted for his Grace And thrô'ly taught beyond this lower World t' aspire ADVERTISEMENT THrô the Printer's Mistake the Verses from pag. vii are misplac'd having been intended to come in at the end THE IDEA OF Christian Love. PROEM TO Mr. WALLER THE Taper shining with diminisht Rays While Noon-day Sun swallows its feeble Blaze Not valu'd as consider'd for its Light But what it shadows to th' internal Sight May be my Emblem who the most obscure Of all who follow you their Cynosure Within your Province and at your Command As a dim Taper on the Altar stand Tho small 's my Portion of Poetick Fire I shew to others how they should aspire Love lights my Lamp and gives it all its Flame 'T is Love I breath and seek Love I proclaim To think t' enlighten you when I have done Would be to light a Candle to the Sun If your Affections I can but excite I have my end nor can you miss Delight CHrist his Disciples with effect to move To draw in the soft Yoak of Mutual Love Did to his Precept and Example join The happy Fruit By this 't is known ye 're mine To love 't is certain a Command requires The Ardor of its self quickly expires As much it does a great Example need Its glim'ring Light in others few will heed Nor less Incitement wants the sluggish Mind To climb to the Ascent of Love enjoyn'd Let 's see the charming nature of this Love Which does the Character of Christians prove What in its self to what our Hearts 't would move This his Command our Saviour marks for new Not that its first Foundations there we view But as a Sanction it from him obtains And in each Age from him new Vigor gains Men's Tempers and their Manners this require Tho Love is the most natural Desire Mixt with our Beings and refreshing found In all the Exigencies Life surround The gratefull'st Passion and most friendly Pow'r The Minds serene the Bodies verdant Flow'r The Spirits poize the Harmony o th' whole And when its opposite takes the controul Disturbance Torment and Decay succeed Tho mutual Aid common occasions need And a Foundation of firm Union lay Whence for united Hearts and Souls we pray To this our publick Vows and Reason tend Nature to this seems with full course to bend Yet Sin and Satan Nature's dangerous Foes With such Impediments its way oppose That rare 's the Love which long continues fair Time and slight Accidents its force impair Wear off the Paint and drive the Smoak to Air. Self-Flatt'ry keeps to narrow Banks confin'd What to enrich the neigh'bring Plain's design'd The Mind's Propensions sweetning in a Stream Stagnate within and send forth noxious steam How oft on Love does gnawing Envy prey Whose Arbitrary Laws while Men obey Against their dear Self-Love they blindly act And wast those Bowels which they thus contract How oft does he whom Benefits have bound Think the meer owning them would Honour wound How oft Suspicion breeds ill-natur'd Leav'n How oft an Injury receiv'd or giv'n To hurt one whom you hate 's thought less unjust Than one who in your Friendship places trust And thence to colour 'ore the wrong you do Your injur'd Friend is held for constant Foe But only vulgar Dreggs thus meanly fail These Blemishes can't o're great Souls prevail Yet these alas incur too often blame For crim'nal stifling Lov 's enobling Flame Diff'rence of Manners makes divided Minds Of Ierom and Ruffinus this one finds Opin'ions disagreeing do the same These tarnish Cyprian's and Stephen's Fame Study of Parties fatal oft to Love 'Gainst Chrysostom did Epiphanius move A Point of Ceremony unexprest To Greg'ry drove his Basil from his Breast Ev'n Paul and Barn'bas striving for controul Parted in Body not to say in Soul. Great Names ye see I on this Head produce Specious Apologies for Love's abuse Yet ought not they to serve for an Excuse Tho they 're great Instances that Love is frail Yet ought our Saviour's Precept to prevail Who from his Brother does his Love withdraw In that 's a Traytor to the Christian Law. The Lord commands and wilt thou Wretch dispute Wilt thou resist Command so absolute Command good Lord effectually command And grant I be not able to withstand Atthy Command from the rude formless heap Beauty and pleasing Order forth did leap From Void came Solids and from Nothing All The Winds and raging Seas obey thy call Thou dost the madness of the People quell So tame my Heart that there sweet Love may dwell With his Example Christ this Precept binds To imitate his Love would raise our Minds Under the Jewish Institutes we see Provision made for Love's Sincerity Yet much the Duty wanted of its weight When Self-Love only was to set the rate Who makes in loving others this his bound To come far short of Duty will be found Themselves indeed all Men sincerely love Blind and imprudent yet that Love does prove Fondly indulging unrestrain'd Desires Men think they answer what that Law requires Flatter themselves and blow up Nature's Fires And this they think is justice to their Friend When nothing's more perfidious in the end Nothing more dangerously insinuates Vice To which

THE IDEA OF Christian Love. Being a Translation at the Instance of Mr. WALLER of a Latin Sermon Upon Iohn xiii 34 35. Preach'd by Mr. EDWARD YOUNG PREBEND of SALISBURY With a Large PARAPHRASE on Mr. Waller's POEM of Divine Love. To which are added some Copies of VERSES from that Excellent Poetess Mrs. Wharton with others to her Hic ego rerum Fluctibus in mediis tempestatibus urbis Verba Lyrae motura Sonum connectere dignor Hor. London Printed for Ionathan Robinson at the Golden-Lion in St. Paul's Church-yard 1688. THE TRANSLATOR TO THE AUTHOR WHo Love the Christian's Duty and his Praise In all the Beauties of your Pen surveys Seeing my Rythms may the just censure pass That here 's a Matchless Di'mond set in Brass Yet Latin the most elegant and pure The Ignorance of most renders obscure This may excuse my creeping English Stile The Jewel is enhans'd thus by its Foil Who propagated what our Savi'our taught No Ornament from any Art had brought Barely to represent such Truths as these May be enough unbyass'd Minds to please But most these Golden Rules so much forsake That who applies them Satyrs seems to make The Christian's Character is now reverst And Hatred for the truest Mark is nurst The fiercest Heats are varnish'd o're with Zeal Each Party thinks God their Decrees will Seal Were 't in the Pow'r of Man Heav'ns Gate to close Many would be shut out whom God has chose Of Means which he appointed they 'd deprive And to block up the narrow Way they strive Some to himself God from each Church do's call Delights to break down Man's Partiti'on-Wall And will at last unite●● in a Peace Where ev'ry Term not made by Christ shall cease A Church is often a Procrusti'an Bed Happy the Man who there can rest his Head Without the pain of be'ng stretcht out to reach His Length who would impose his Form of Speech Or else contracted to that scanty Size Which to a few confines the common prize While most to whom the Terms appear less hard Cannot but grieve that others are debarr'd Of Benefits encreasing as they 're shar'd But Publick Good a Sacrifice is made To those to whom Restraints become a Trade Great is Diana is the gen'ral Voice For few observe what Craftsmen rais'd the Noise Who at his Neighbour's Liberty repines That gets no Profit by the Silver Shrines Good God! our Hearts so with thy Love inspire That ev'ry Earth-born Ardor may expire Let not a Flaming Sword forbid the Taste Of the fair Fruit in thy new Eden plac'd May we anticipate the State Above Where all Things in an unforc'd Order move Remote from all necessity but Love To Mrs. WHARTON WHen counterfeit Astraea's lustful Rage Joyns to Debauch the too Effem'nate Age Draws an Embroider'd Curtain over Sin And jilts with Promises of Bliss within 'T is time for you with all your Wealth of Thought Forth from your lov'd Retirement to be brought Those Thoughts which Pie'ty to your self endear Would strangely taking to the World appear Who could be vicious who had Vertue seen By you drest out with its attractive Meen Thousands of Graces hov'ring round the Scene You best can tell the Charms of vertu'ous Joy Despising Venus with her Wanton Boy Your Fancy which so much of Heav'n do's view Could ne're descend low Pleasures to pursue And when to us you the warm Rays impart Of Love Divine dancing about your Heart You will convert faster than she seduce Teaching the Epicure Life's noblest use Far be that Scandal from Poetick Fires As if best Poets had most loose Desires If old Philosophy Purgati'ons taught To fit the Mind for Loftiness of Thought When 't was no higher than dull Prose to rise Prose which must keep below the Starry Skyes For Verse the only Language is Above Where all Things in Harmonious Numbers move How purg'd how undefil'd should be the Mind Which imitates the way of the Angelick kind From Mrs. WHARTON DI'monds conceal'd their Lustre may retain But Sacred Wit can never hid remain From what e're dark'ning Cloud it takes its Birth It like the Rising-Sun glads half the Earth True Poesy appears with decent Pride Not pufft with Praise nor griev'd when Fools deride Free and Secure in its own proper Merit Scorns Envy yet spurns back the flatt'ring Spirit This makes me wonder you thus long conceal'd A Talent which to all should be reveal'd And bashfully decline the yielding Boughs Which Daphne offers to adorn your Brows Not but that Minds best taught are most afraid To venture out when they for Glory trade An humble Mind doth every Path survey That leads to Fame and sees how many stray Observes the steep Ascent to th' Sacred Ground Which Envy guards and all new-Comers wounds Sees many when they are arriv'd so high They seem to grasp at Fame and touch the Sky Whilst swell'd with Vanity they all deride Stumbling themselves upon the Rock of Pride By some more silent Traveller are crost Thrown from the Top and all their Hopes are lost But let not this discourage nor amaze That humble Mind which frighted flies for ease Unto the Cordial of reviving Praise Praise is the sprightly Wine of growing Fame Adding most Life to the most fertile Brain And like that always doth new Thought produce So when 't is bad the Wine is its Excuse A truly humble Mind knows what is just When he seeks Praise through Vanity or Thirst. And as he scorns the Fame that Flatt'ry gives He values what from Merit he receives This forces me with grateful Thanks to own I 'm prais'd by one whose Lines such Skill have shown That I now ought to prize what he esteems And think there is some worth in my dull Rhymes To Mrs. WHARTON Who with Verses to him sent her Answer to Mr. WALLER WHen that soft Hand whence Waller has his Dues Stroaks and encourages my backward Muse Feeds it with Praise and teaches it to fly Not to attempt would be Stupidity She do's the Rev'rend Poet's Age renew With nobler Art than e're Medaea knew 'T were hard if she should not the Young inspire Whom with such blooming Thoughts the Old admire See! how the Sacred Bard himself excells While on the Wonders of your Verse he dwells But his exhalted Head how will it raise To be caught up to Heaven by your Praise To hear from Angel's Form an Angel's Voice Warble his Name how much must he rejoyce Those Ani'mal Spirits which so closely join Unto his Earthy part a Guest Divine By this one Rapture strain'd and weaken'd more Than by the shock of Time and Thought before Not able to resist this added Force May leave the Soul 't is likely to its Course Wing'd by your Praise 't will to it 's Rest retire And Phenix-like in chearful Flames expire Forth from the kindling Spices you arise And to give way to you the Elder dyes Your Rise Prophetick is of his Decay Heav'n has to see your

the Tomb so many Heros taught By those that guided their Devotion fought Thrice happy we could we like Ardour have To gain his Love as they to win his Grave Love as he lov'd A Love so unconfin'd With Arms extended would embrace Mankind Self-Love would cease or be dilated when We should behold as many Selves as Men All of one Family in Blood Ally'd His precious Blood that for our Ransom dy'd Paraph. XXXVI The Drums or Trumpets horrid sound Would not the boding Heart with Terror wound Nor would the Princes cloath themselves with Steel While they than that no more relentings feel Tho 't were to gain our Saviour's Monument And like the Ark from the curst Philistines To bring it unto Israel's happy Tent. Many brave Lives were lost in such Designs Whilst subtile Men wheadling the Heros in Did unobserv'd to Empire rise These did some useless Lawrels win But they enjoy'd the solid Prize How might we pity such misguided Zeal How much these Heros would behind us come If we like Transports of Desire could feel To gain his Love as they to win his Tomb. And if his Love could ours excite To labour at an equal height With that which would embrace Mankind And grieves to see so many lagg behind For want of Love to Wing them to his Arms. Did we that Pattern emulate Self-Love would wholly cease Or else it self o're Human Race dilate While each another Self in 's Neighbour sees Whose ev'ry Vein the same Blood warms That Blood which virt'ally was shed An Antidote as soon as Sin 's first Poyson spread Mr. Waller Tho the Creation so Divinely Taught Prints such a lively Image in our Thought That the first Spark of new created Light From Chaos struck affects our present Sight Yet the first Christians did esteem more blest The Day of Rising than the Day of Rest That every Week might new occasion give To make his Triumph in their Mem'ry Live. Paraph. XXXVII To make the World and in it Man Th' Almighty Architect t' Adore Do's less of Love Divine declare Than his decayed Image to repair And when with Sins 't was sullied o're It s former Luster to restore Tho the Description giv'n us from Above Of God's first Workmanship do's strongely move And 't is so lively drawn That ev'n the first Days dawn Seems to affect our present Sight As if we saw the new created Light Just out of Chaos raise its beamy Head While as the Hemisphere it smiling spread In haste the frightful Shadows fled And the approach of unknown Day Disperst the Doemons which here wall'wing lay Yet the first Christians justly chose To praise that Day when God from 's Grave arose Before his Rest when the great Work was done And thus each Week they celebrate the rising Sun. Mr. Waller Then let our Muse compose a Sacred Charm To keep his Blood among us ever warm And singing as the Blessed do Above With our last Breath dilate this Flame of Love. But on so vast a Subject who can find Words that may reach th' Ideas of his Mind Our Language fails or if it could supply What Mortal Thought can raise it self so high Despairing here we might abandon Art And only hope to have it in our Heart Paraph. XXXVIII Then let our Muse transported with his praise Unto his Memory an Altar raise And each Lord's Day offer devoted Lays Singing and spreading out the Flame of Love Until it touch the Flaming Seat Above Where in its Element the Soul shall rest With the Reward of Love for ever blest Love the Ambrosia at the Heav'nly Feast Who can those thronging Images express That fill the Mind intent on such a Theam We here must needs our Poverty confess Where what we think is less than what we feel An Angels Hand with a Sun Beam Might such a Subject trace While we poor Earth-born Race Despairing to describe its meanest Grace Contentedly may rest Having this Deity within our Breast Tho meanly lodg'd there it delights to dwell If we cherish it with care Th' Endearments passing there No Tongue can tell No Thought can reach The Mind 's confounded when 't would dictate to the Speech Mr. Waller But tho we find this Sacred Task too hard Yet the Design th'Endeavour brings Reward The Contemplation do's suspend our Woe And makes a Truce with all the Ills we know As Saul's afflicted Spirit from the sound Of David's Harp a present Solace found So on this Theam while we our Muse engage No Wounds are felt of Fortune or of Age. On Divine Love to meditate is Peace And makes all care of meaner things to cease Paraph. XXXIX Yet the Design the bare Endeavour brings Reward beyond the Crowns of Kings The Swan can feel no Pain that dying sings And he who thinks of Sacred Love Do's with that Contemplation tune his Mind Nor can what from without do's move Disturb the Musick he within do's find While that about the Soul do's play All Ills and Evil Spirits keep away Not David's Harp with sweeter ease Did charm the Furious Saul And make his ravisht Madness fall Than this suspends our raging Woes We know not how we lose The Thoughts of what we were before And while that Harmony takes up the Soul Nothing about us can displease Love to it Self converts the whole We just are knocking at Heav'ns Door Being with all the World at Peace Just just approaching to become meer Deities Mr. Waller Amaz'd at once and comforted to find A boundless Pow'r so infinitely kind The Soul contending to that Light to fly From her dark Cell we practise how to dye Emplying thus the Poets winged Art To reach this Love and grave it in our Heart Joy so compleat so solid and severe Would leave no Place for meaner Pleasures there Pale they would look as Stars that must be gon When from the East the rising Sun comes on Paraph. XL. With what surprize of Joy do we admire Infinite Love mixt with unbounded Pow'r The Flames all Lambent which might well devour Us who lay under the Almighty's Ire Till he the Image of his Love Divine Sent down on Earth to shine And be a Leading Light To them that groap'd in gloomy Night Where Spectres of Eternal Death affright And raise them to Love's Glorious Throne Whither the Soul may often fly Upon the Wings of Contemplation Abstracted from its sordid Cell And that blest Time anticipate When free from ev'ry Weight Nor subject more to Fate We shall to live for ever dye And leave our Inn Below in Heav'n to dwell The noblest Rise and boldest Flights That thitherward are made Are by the Muses Aid Verse softens and prepares for those Delights Which Angels do in Numbers sing Numbers which raise the Soul upon the Wing And to the Beatifick view Of Love's bright Face do bring Where Holy David singing to his Lyre Sits with the highest of the Heav'nly Quire Telling his Bliss in Verses ever new The thoughts of Joys so solid and severe Aim'd at in Verse by Mortal Poets here Make meaner Pleasures shrink away As the less Lights the Stars when Phoebus brings the Day FINIS 2 King. 2. 21. Iob. 38. 7.