Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	ghost_n	holy_a	lord_n	23,094	5	4.0162	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A87373	The world turn'd upside down: or, A briefe description of the ridiculous fashions of these distracted times. By T.J. a well-willer to King, Parliament, and kingdom.	T. J.; Taylor, John, 1580-1653.; Jordan, Thomas, 1612?-1685?,	1647 (1647)	Wing J1072A; Thomason E372_19; ESTC R8264	3,098	8

THE World turn'd upside down OR A briefe description of the ridiculous Fashions of these distracted Times By T. J. a well-willer to King Parliament and Kingdom London Printed for John Smith 1647. The VVorld turned up-side-down THe Picture that is printed in the front Is like the Kingdom if you look upon 't For if you well do note it as it is It is a Transform'd Metamorphosis This monstrous Picture plainely doth declare This Land quite out of order out of square His breeches on his shoulders do appeare His doublet on his lower parts doth weare His boots and spurs upon his armes and hands His gloves upon his feet whereon he stands The Church o're-turn'd a lamentable show The Candlestick above the light below The Cony hunts the Dogge the Rat the Cat The Horse doth whip the Cart I pray marke that The Wheelbarrow doth drive the man oh base And Eeles and Gudgeons flie a mighty pace And sure this is a Monster of strange fashion That doth surpasse all Ovids Transformation And this is Englands case this very day All things are turn'd the clean contrary way For now when as a royall Parliament With King and Peers and Commons whole consent Have sate above six years with paines and cares And charge to free us from our griefs and feares For when many a worthy Lord and Knight And good Esquire for King and Countreyes Right Have spent so much time with great toyle and heed All Englands Vicious garden how to weed So like a Wildernesse 't was over-runne That though much hath been done all is not done The Devill doth perswade entice and lurke And force bad men to set good men aworke That whilst the Worthies strive to right our wrongs And give to each man what to him belongs Whil'st they take paines to settle all things heere An Irish Devill doth madly domineere From Heils blacke Pit begirt with Romish Armes Thousands of Locusts are in Troups and Swarmes More barbarous then the Heathens worse then Jewes Nor Turkes or Tartars would such tortures use Sure that Religion can no waies bee good That so inhumanely delights in Blood Nor doth that Doctrine from the Scriptures spring For to rebell against God and the King Nay further murder ravish spoile deflowre Burne and lay wast depopulate devoure Not sparing Infants at the breast or wombe To die where first they liv'd their birth their tombe 'T is said no Serpent Adder Snake or Toade Can live in Ireland or have their aboade 'T is strange that she those Vipers doth not kill That gnawes her bowells and her blood doth spill Can Irish Earth kill all things venemous And can shee nurse such Vermin Mischievous Her owne sonnes Native worse then strangers borne They have their Mothers Entrailes rent and torne Yet still her indulgencie harbours those And feeds those Rebells that do breed her woes God in thy mercie give her strength and ayd And courage make her foes and ours dismay'd Thou Lord of Hosts thine owne cause take in hand Thy foes thine Antichristian foes withstand Defend thy truth and all our Armies guide Our Enemies to scatter and devide Thus leaving Ireland with my hearty prayers To Btitaine backe againe my Muse repaires Where I perceive a Metamorphosis Is most preposterous as the Picture is The world 's turn'd up-side-downe from bad to worse Quite out of frame The Cart before the Horse The Felt-maker and sawcie stable Groome Will dare to pearch into the Preachers roome Each Ignorant doe of the Spirit boast And prating fooles brag of the Holy Ghost When Ignoramus will his Teacher teach And Sow-gelders and Coblers dare to preach This shewes mens wits are monstrously disguis'd Or that our Countrey is Antipodis'd When as the Lords Prayer is almost neglected And all Church-Government is quite rejected When to avoid a Romish Papists name A man must be unmannerly past shame When he that doth shew reverence doth offend And he seemes best that will not bow or bend When he that into Gods House doth not come As to a Stable or a Tipling Roome Is counted for a Popish Favorite And branded so despis'd and scorn'd with spite When he that of his waies doth conscience make And in his heart doth world flesh feind forsake Loves God with all his soule adores no pelfe And loves his Neighbour as he loves himselfe This man is rare to finde yet this rare man Shall have the hatefull name of Puritan When execrations pierce the firmament And oathes doe batter ' gainst heavens battlement When imprecations and damn'd blasphemies In sun dry cursed volleys scale the skies When men more bruitish then the Horse or Mule Who know not to obey presume to rule Th●● Ch●rch a●d Common wealth and men all are Much like the Picture out of frame or square And if 't were possible our fathers old Should live againe and tread upon this mould And see all things confused overthrowne They would not know this Countrey for their own For England hath no likelihood or show Of what it was but seventy years ago Religion manners life and shapes of men Are much unlike the people that were then Nay Englands face and language is estrang'd That all is Metamorphis'd chop d and chang'd For like as on the Poles the World is whorl'd So is this Land the Bedlam of the World That I amazed and amated am To see Great Britain turn'd to Amsterdam Mens braines and wits two simples beat together From thence mix'd and compounded are sent hither For Amsterdam is landed as I heare At Rye or Hastings or at Dover Peere At Harwich Ipswich Sandwich or at Weymouth And at Portsmouth Dartmouth Plymouth Falmouth At Yarmouth and at the Ports of Tinmouth And Westward unto Bristow and to Monmouth From all these Mouthes and more mad sects are sent Who have Religion all in pieces rent One would have this another would have that And most of them would have they know not what God give us peace and ease us of our paine And send those Sects from whence they came againe The Papist and the Schismatique both grieves The Church for shee 's like Christ between two Thieves I tooke the Covenant twice of late Where I protested not to innovate Tavoid all Popish Rite and to express Obedience to what Englands Church profess My Loyalty unto my King is bent With duty to the Peeres and Parliament With Prayers and my best service for them all That on them may heavens chiefest blessing fall That with one heart as one man with one mind For Gods great glory they may be combinde And never vary but go boldly on To end the good worke which they have begun This is the Sum with ne'er shall be forsooke Of what I in the Covenant have tooke But for all this I may be mannerly In Gods House and be free from Papistrie I hope I may put off my hat and bee Allow'd to kneel and pray and bow my knee When as divine Command bids onely then I 'le bow to God and not to Saints or Men And from those duties I will never vary Till death or order do command contrary Th' Almighties Name be ever prais'd and blest That Romish Superstition is supprest We have no Abbies Abbots Friars or Monks Nor have we Nuns or Stews allow'd for Punks We have no Masses nor no Mas-Priests heere But some are hang'd and some are sled for feare All those that are so bold to stay behind I wish they may like entertainement find Beades Bables Relliques Tapers Lamps or Lights We have no superstitious Romish Rites We seeke our Pardons from our heavenly hope And not by workes or favour from the Pope To Saints we make no prayer or intercession And unto God alone we make Confession We hold no reall Presence in the Bread And wee doe know King Charles our supreame head Beneath God who hath plac'd him in his Throne For other Supreame we acknowledge none No purgatory Image Wood or Stone No Stocke or carved Blocke we trust upon Nor is our Church discretion here so little As to baptize with creame with falt and spittle We have as many Sacraments as Heaven Ordain'd which are but two and Rome hath seven We doe not christen Bells and give them Names Of Simon Peter Andrew John and James We use no Pilgrimage or Holy-water Nor in an unknowne tongue our prayers scatter All these and many more in Rome are us'd Which are by us rejected and refus'd And yet too many faults alas remaines Which are the Churches and the Kingdomes staines The Church Tryumphant is most cleare from spots The poore Church Militant hath still some blots Here 's all unperfect something 's still amisse And nothing's blest but in Eternall Blisse Meane time till wee amend and leave our crimes The Picture is the Emblem of the times FINIS