Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A03058
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The temple Sacred poems and private ejaculations. By Mr. George Herbert.
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Herbert, George, 1593-1633.; Ferrar, Nicholas, 1592-1637.
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1633
(1633)
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STC 13183; ESTC S122349
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79,051
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208
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youth and fiercenesse seek thy face At first thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses I had my wish and way My dayes were straw'd with flow'rs and happinesse There was no moneth but May. But with my yeares sorrow did twist and grow And made a partie unawares for wo. â—y flesh began unto my soul in pain Sicknesses cleave my bones â—onsuming agues dwell in ev'ry vein And tune my breath to grones â—orrow was all my soul I scarce beleeved â—ill grief did tell me roundly that I lived â—hen I got health thou took'st away my life And more for my friends die â—y mirth and edge was lost a blunted knife Was of more use then I. Thus thinne and lean without a fence or friend â—was blown through with ev'ry storm and winde Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the town Thou didst betray me to a lingring book And wrap me in a gown I was entangled in the world of strife Before I had the power to change my life Yet for I threatned oft the siege to raise Not simpring all mine age Thou often didst with Academick praise Melt and dissolve my rage I took thy sweetned pill till I came neare I could not go away nor persevere Yet left perchance I should too happie be In my unhappinesse Turning my purge to food thou throwest me Into more sicknesses Thus doth thy power crosse-bias me not making Thine own gift good yet me from my wayes taking Now I am here what thou wilt do with me None of my books will show I reade and sigh and wish I were a tree For sure then I should grow To fruit or shade at least some bird would trust Her houshold to me and I should be just Yet though thou troublest me I must be meek In weaknesse must be stout Well I will change the service and go seek Some other master out Ah my deare God! though I am clean forgot Let me not love thee if I love thee not ¶ Repentance LOrd I confesse my sinne is great Great is my sinne Oh! gently treat With thy quick flow'r thy moment anie bloom Whose life still pressing Is one undressing A steadie aiming at a tombe Mans age is two houres work or three Each day doth round about us see Thus are we to delights but we are all To sorrows old If life be told From what life feeleth Adams fall O let thy height of mercie then Compassionate short-breathed men Cut me not off for my most foul transgression I do confesse My foolishnesse My God accept of my confession Sweeten at length this bitter bowl Which thou hast pour'd into my soul â—hy wormwood turn to health windes to fair weather For if thou stay I and this day As we did rise we die together When thou for sinne rebukest man Forthwith he waxeth wo and wan Bitternesse fills our bowels all our hearts Pine and decay And drop away And carrie with them th' other parts But thou wilt sinne and grief destroy That so the broken bones may joy And tune together in a well-set song Full of his praises Who dead men raises Fractures well cur'd make us more strong ¶ Faith LOrd how couldst thou so much appease Thy wrath for sinne as when mans sight was dimme And could see little to regard his ease And bring by Faith all things to him Hungrie I was and had no meat â— did conceit a most delicious feast â— had it straight and did as truly eat As ever did a welcome guest There is a rare outlandish root Which when I could not get I thought it here That apprehension cur'd so well my foot That I can walk to heav'n well neare I owed thousands and much more I did beleeve that I did nothing owe And liv'd accordingly my creditor Beleeves so too and lets me go Faith makes me any thing or all That I beleeve is in the sacred storie And where sinne placeth me in Adams fall Faith sets me higher in his glorie If I go lower in the book What can be lower then the common manger Faith puts me there with him who sweetly took Our flesh and frailtie death and danger If blisse had lien in art or strength None but the wise or strong had gained it Where now by Faith all arms are of a length One size doth all conditions fit A peasant may beleeve as much As a great Clerk and reach the highest stature Thus dost thou make proud knowledge bend crouâ— While grace fills up uneven nature When creatures had no reall light Inherent in them thou didst make the sunne Impute a lustre and allow them bright And in this shew what Christ hath done That which before was darkned clean With bushie groves pricking the lookers eie Vanisht away when Faith did change the scene And then appear'd a glorious skie What though my bodie runne to dust Faith cleaves unto it counting evr'y grain With an exact and most particular trust Reserving all for flesh again ¶ Prayer PRayer the Churches banquet Angels age Gods breath in man returning to his birth The soul in paraphrase heart in pilgrimage â—he Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth â—â—gine against th' Almightie sinners towre Reversed thunder Christ-side-piercing spear The six-daies world-transposing in an houre A kinde of tune which all things heare and fear Softnesse and peace and joy and love and blisse Exalted Manna gladnesse of the best Heaven in ordinarie man well drest The milkie way the bird of Paradise Church-bels beyond the starres heard the souls bloud The land of spices something understood ¶ The H. Communion NOt in rich furniture or fine aray Nor in a wedge of gold Thou who from me wast sold To me dost now thy self convey For so thou should'st without me still have been Leaving within me sinne But by the way of nourishment and strengh Thou creep'st into my breast Making thy way my rest And thy small quantities my length Which spread their forces into every part Meeting sinnes force and art Yet can these not get over to my soul Leaping the wall that parts Our souls and fleshly hearts But as th' outworks they may controll My rebel-rebel-flesh and carrying thy name Affright both sinne and shame Onely thy grace which with these elements comes Knoweth the ready way And hath the privie key Op'ning the souls most subtile rooms While those to spirits refin'd at doore attend Dispatches from their friend Give me my captive soul or take My bodie also thither Another lift like this will make Them both to be together Before that sinne turn'd flesh to stone And all our lump to leaven A fervent sigh might well have blown Our innocent earth to heaven For sure when Adam did not know To sinne or sinne to smother He might to heav'n from Paradise go As from one room t'another Thou hast restor'd us to this ease By this thy heav'nly bloud Which I can go to when I please And leave th' earth to their food ¶ Antiphon Cho. LEt all the world
Divinities transcendent skie Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve Reason triumphs and faith lies by Could not that wisdome which first broacht the wine Have thicken'd it with definitions And jagg'd his seamlesse coat had that been fine With curious questions and divisions But all the doctrine which he taught and gave Was cleare as heav'n from whence it came At least those beams of truth which onely save Surpasse in brightnesse any flame Love God and love your neighbour Watch and pray Do as ye would be done unto O dark instructions ev'n as dark as day Who can these Gordian knots undo But he doth bid us take his bloud for wine Bid what he please yet I am sure To take and taste what he doth there designe Is all that saves and not obscure Then burn thy Epicycles foolish man Break all thy spheres and save thy head Faith needs no staffe of flesh but stoutly can To heav'n alone both go and leade Ephes. 4.30 Grieve not the Holy Spirit c. ANd art thou grieved sweet and sacred Dove When I am sowre And crosse thy love Grieved for me the God of strength and power Griev'd for a worm which when I tread I passe away and leave it dead Then weep mine eyes the God of love doth grieve Weep foolish heart And weeping live For death is drie as dust Yet if ye part End as the night whose sable hue Your sinnes expresse melt into dew When sawcie mirth shall knock or call at doore Cry out Get hence Or cry no more Almightie God doth grieve he puts on sense I sinne not to my grief alone But to my Gods too he doth grone Oh take thy lute and tune it to a strain Which may with thee All day complain There can no discord but in ceasing be Marbles can weep and surely strings More bowels have then such hard things Lord I adjudge my self to tears and grief Ev'n endlesse tears Without relief If a cleare spring for me no time forbears But runnes although I be not drie I am no Crystall what shall I Yet if I wail not still since still to wail Nature denies And flesh would fail If my deserts were masters of mine eyes Lord pardon for thy sonne makes good My want of tears with store of bloud ¶ The Familie WHat doth this noise of thoughts within my heart As if they had a part What do these loud complaints and pulling fears As if there were no rule or eares But Lord the house and familie are thine Though some of them repine Turn out these wranglers which defile thy seat For where thou dwellest all is neat First Peace and Silence all disputes controll Then Order plaies the soul And giving all things their set forms and houres Makes of wilde woods sweet walks and bowres Humble Obedience neare the doore doth stand Expecting a command Then whom in waiting nothing seems more slow Nothing more quick when she doth go Joyes oft are there and griefs as oft as joyes But griefs without a noise Yet speak they louder then distemper'd fears What is so shrill as silent tears This is thy house with these it doth abound And where these are not found Perhaps thou com'st sometimes and for a day But not to make a constant stay ¶ The Size COntent thee greedie heart Modest and moderate joyes to those that have Title to more hereafter when they part Are passing brave Let th' upper springs into the low Descend and fall and thou dost flow What though some have a fraught Of cloves and nutmegs and in cinamon sail If thou hast wherewithall to spice a draught When griefs prevail And for the future time art heir To th' Isle of spices Is 't not fair To be in both worlds full Is more then God was who was hungrie here Wouldst thou his laws of fasting disanull Enact good cheer Lay out thy joy yet hope to save it Wouldst thou both eat thy cake and have it Great joyes are all at once But little do reserve themselves for more Those have their hopes these what they have renounce And live on score Those are at home these journey still And meet the rest on Sions hill Thy Saviour sentenc'd joy And in the flesh condemn'd it as unfit At least in lump for such doth oft destroy Whereas a bit Doth tice us on to hopes of more And for the present health restore A Christians state and case â—s not a corpulent but a thinne and spare Yet active strength whose long and bonie face Content and care Do seem to equally divide Like a pretender not a bride Wherefore sit down good heart Grasp not at much for fear thou losest all If comforts fell according to desert They would great frosts and snows destroy For we should count Since the last joy Then close again the seam Which thou hast open'd do not spread thy robe In hope of great things Call to minde thy dream An earthly globe On whose meridian was engraven These seas are tears and heav'n the haven ¶ Artillerie AS I one ev'ning sat before my cell Me thoughts a starre did shoot into my lap I rose and shook my clothes as knowing well That from small fires comes oft no small mishap When suddenly I heard one say Do as thou usest disobey Expell good motions from thy breast Which have the face of fire but end in rest I who had heard of musick in the spheres But not of speech in starres began to muse But turning to my God whose ministers The starres and all things are If I refuse Dread Lord said I so oft my good Then I refuse not ev'n with bloud To wash away my stubborn thought For I will do or suffer what I ought But I have also starres and shooters too Born where thy servants both artilleries use My tears and prayers night and day do wooe And work up to thee yet thou dost refuse Not but I am I must say still Much more oblig'd to do thy will Then thou to grant mine but because Thy promise now hath ev'n set thee thy laws Then we are shooters both and thou dost deigne To enter combate with us and contest With thine own clay But I would parley fain Shunne not my arrows and behold my breast Yet if thou shunnest I am thine I must be so if I am mine There is no articling with thee I am but finite yet thine infinitely ¶ Church-rents and schismes BRave rose alas where art thou in the chair Where thou didst lately so triumph and shine A worm doth sit whose many feet and hair Are the more foul the more thou wert divine This this hath done it this did bite the root And bottome of the leaves which when the winde Did once perceive it blew them under foot Where rude unhallow'd steps do crush and grinde Their beauteous glories Onely shreds of thee And those all bitten in thy chair I see Why doth my Mother blush is she the rose And shows it so Indeed Christs