Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A50994
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The Mischief of intemperance occasioned by the death of a young gentleman who shortned his days by immoderate drinking.
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1691
(1691)
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Wing M2234; ESTC R26844
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6,688
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16
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downward prest And locked fast within the Bodies Chest Nor can they in this wretched state prevail To move beyond the Confines of a Jayl Nor can they Truth from Falsehood ever know Nor what is Good and Evil here below But what the Senses judges to be so Nor do we heed what should concern us most Not conscious to our selves that we are lost The bodies Malady is soon espy'd Soon felt and soon the Remedy's apply'd But in Distempers that affect the Mind The Party most concern'd is sadly blind And deadly sick though in appearance well Sleeping securely at the Gates of Hell Thus Man is lost within himself and can But by a Metaphor be called Man Spoyl'd of his Faculties and of his Frame And is but Man in Anagram and Name So Houses oft are in their Ruines seen And what they are not speak what they have been Look what that Serpent was that did deceive Our Father Adam and our Mother Eve The same of tempting Pleasure may be said By which our souls are gull'd and thus betray'd It is that Serpent here in Masquerade Which loves in tempting Coverts for to lye Tracing the steps of all that passeth by Shewing his speckled Coat and spangled Skin Gaudy without but Venome all within With creeping courtship and with charming smiles With curling circles and with twisting wiles He steals upon us hoping to prevail First twining in his head and then his tayl For so by things that lawful are and small W' are tempted most and by the Tempter fall And by such subtle and such sly Pretences He thus accosts our Eve I mean our senses Canst thou deny that God made all things good And no less for thy Pleasure than thy Food Did not He paint the Colours in the Face And cause the Wine to sparkle in the Glass Doth not this Apple blazon like to Gold Sweet to the taste and pleasant to behold At last by poyson'd and inchanted breath We kiss and close and sport our selves to death Not dreading once which will at length prevail The cuspid sting that 's sheathed in his tayl Viewing the Apple in its dapled skin Unskilful of the Core that 's wrap't within And thus we eat o th' Tree of Good and Evil Tempted by Pleasure termed here a Devil Which proves a Tree of Knowledge to our cost Knowing the Evil by the Good we lost So darkness sets a Price upon the light Health is by sickness known by blindness sight Thus Pleasure is that Serpent that doth tempt us And is that Serpent too that doth torment us And dooms us to his Curse as downward thrust To creep upon our breasts and lick the dust The froath of Luxury and foam of Lust Loathing that Manna which the Angels feed on Not rising up above the Ground we tread on Unable for to fix our Eyes aloft Cent'ring on Earth in body and in thought Condemned to a dark and pinching Cell Moving but like a Crab-fish in a shell The only state on Earth that 's termed Hell And thus benighted little do we know From whence we come or whither we shall go Nor do these Pleasures thus bewitch the Mind But do attract great Evils still behind Spending the talent of our time in vain Which the most grateful Man can't call again On which two vast Eternities depend Of Bliss and Wo and both without an end Time if improv'd will prove a Friend in store When time will be that time shall be no more But ah We see how oft the Glass in hand Deceives the Glass that presseth out the sand As he that in a Ship a Voyage makes Knows not the strimes and measures which he takes Sleep or awake the Vessel rideth post And unexpectedly doth make the Coast And so our time doth slide away and pass Between the Looking and the Drinking-Glass Whilst we Carouse and drink away our Care We know not where we go nor where we are And so God's Gifts and Talents lye as dead Under a bushel barrel and a bed Nor can we shake off this beloved sleep Caus'd by the steams which on our Temples creep 'Till death comes in and makes us quit the Room Calls for a Reckoning and chides us home God turns the Glass of Time but we do shake it And by our Follies too too often break it And then cry out how short our time hath been And yet we make it shorter by our sin For so did Artaxerxes once complain And weep that his Armado should be slain Not one among two Millions should survive Fifty or sixty Years and be alive And yet through his own fault it was they dy'd As one great Sacrifice unto his Pride Thus Time and Life is spent by those that love it And we turn Prodigals of that we covet God doth impart his Gifts in ample measure But Man 's the Prodigal of this his treasure Wrapping his Talents in a sordid Cloath Which rusty grows through Idleness and Sloath Or spend them on our Luxury and Pride And so grow poor and then our Maker chide As if His Bounty never had been shown Or reap'd the Crop that he had never sown Or we were independent and our own Living we waste our time and dying crave it So Children eat their Cake and cry to have it Intemperance no less contracts a Curse First blinds the Eyes and after picks the Purse Unlocks our secrets and betrays our trust Makes Man that would be honest be unjust Or if he must discharge the debt and score Turns House and Wife and Children out of door Chequers our Joys with intermixing Fears Temp'ring our Liquors with our Childrens tears And makes them thus their Sire for to upbraid We want your drink and you consume our bread But then are Mischiefs still among the many Second to none and are as great as any Cools our devotion casts off godly fear Voids pious counsels and and a prudent care Nor can the clean and holy Dove find rest Within a wet and moist and steamy breast No more than Noah's Dove refreshment found When once the waters overspread the ground For so the flame of Heaven must needs expire When so much liquor 's cast upon the fire God's spirit and the drunkards are at odds Who cannot keep his own he cannot God's Which cannot choose or e're concert in one Since like by like as light by light is known Since Reason's fled and Lust usurps the Throne And God can challenge nothing of his own Whose hidden Manna cannot yield a Gust To crazed Pallats tinctured by Lust Nor can his soft and sweet and silent Word With tumults noise and clamors e're accord Whose Light cannot be seen through muddy steams Nor can his Spirit mix with puddle streams Nor can he bring the Olive Branch of Peace Home to the soul until these Waters cease Nor can the flesh and spirit e're combine Nor can he mix his water with our wine Nor will he cast his Pearls of price to swine Thus when the Holy Spirit