Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	hear_v	heart_n	lord_n	7,448	5	3.9635	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A18039	A larume belle for London, with à caueat or warning to England also a pitifull complaint of the penitente synner, newlie set forthe by Ihon Carre, citezein of London.	Carr, John, citezein of London.; Phillippes, W.	1573 (1573)	STC 4684; ESTC S104895	5,372	24

eyes that thei maie walke their path And graunte the magistrate to vse the office that he hath And to this citie graunt O God lorde Maior with his fraternitie Degresse nothyng from Princes will but ioyne as one in vnitie God prospere her God length her raigne from harmes her grace God saue Poore Phillippes he with gushyng teares doeth thus desire to haue Finis per W. Phillippes The penitent synner BItterly and earnestly Before thy mightie maiestie On knees I fall And crie and call For mercie Lorde vnfainedly Daie and night before thy sight My synfull life I doe recite And craue for grace For to imbrace Whiche is my chief and hartes delight And I with humble reuerence Doe craue thy pardon for myne offence Thy mercie eke oh Lorde I seeke With humble soule and harte moste meeke What am I oh kyng moste hye That thus by myne iniquitie I should prouoke Thy heauie stroke To punishe me so greuouslie Myne offence and negligence Hath monde to wrathe thy patience Whiche now in haste I feele and taste By proofe and plaine experience But Lorde though I haue synned sore Yet slea me not in anger therefore Nor in thyne yre I thee desire Condempne my soule to endlesse fire Worthely vndoubtedly I haue deserude extremely And trode the pathe Right to thy wrathe Suche was my weake infirmitie Sathan hath so blinded me That I forsooke thee vtterly And by his arte He dulde my harte That I had quite forgotten thee And did let slippe out of my mynde Thy benefits and fauour so kynde Thy mercie moste oh Lorde of hoste The perfecte reste to greeued ghoste Caste thyne eyes from christall skies Vpon my state and heare my cries I doe repente With harts consent Therefore my suite doe not despise Heale my wounde and make me sounde Least feare of hell my sprits confounde Respecte my case And graunte thy grace That hope of healthe maie once abounde And that the stormes of death and synne Maie not in me suche victorie winne That I at laste when healthe is paste In euerlastyng paines be caste Pitie me and succour me Oh God of thy benignitie I doe intende For to amende And flie from synne vnfainedlie Vtterly I will defie To runne my race so wickedlie As here tofore I haue full sore The greater grief assuredlie But though I be a wicked wight By true repentaunce pardon me quite For God aboue as scriptures proue A contrite harte doeth daiely loue Though my synne so vile hath been That iudgement iuste the same doeth win Yet since I due My self renewe And to repent my fault beginne Offer grace for I imbrace A broken harte in present place And I deteste With constaunte breaste The woorks of synne before thy face All deeds of darknesse I defie And to thy waies my footsteppes applie Thou art my towre of healthe eche hower I force not then for Sathans power Mercifull and pitifull Thou art vnto the sorowfull To suche as bee Conuerte to thee Thou showste thy graces plentifull Scripture saieth that onely faithe Doeth quenche thy hot and burning wrath Whiche kindled is I knowe well this Against the man that treades the pathe Of wicked life and vnbelefe And other synnes ingendreth grefe And will constraine perpetuall paine Excepte from synne he doe refraine Therefore I vnsainedlie Acknowledge myne iniquitie And now I craue Thy grace to haue And mercie in this miserie Feare of hell doeth me compell My synnes with tricklyng teares to tell Thy heauie hande I vnderstande And all thy skourges fearce and fell Wherewith thou hast from tyme to tyme Corrected suche as fell into cryme And did transgresse thy lawes no lesse Whereto we ought our liues adresse Wilfulnesse in wickednesse Is moste extreme vngodlinesse The man that doeth Against all truthe Resist of sturdie stubbornesse He I saie a sore decaie Shall taste as one quite cast awaie In endlesse paine There to remaine As vnto hell a lastyng praie Where with the glotton he shall taste In Limbo lake sore tormentes in haste Where he shall crie with voice on hie With Diues till his tonge be dzie Whiles the same to mynde I frame I call vpon thy holie name My synne I leaue To thee I cleaue And eke my wanton fleshe I tame Makyng mone to thee alone With many a sigh and many a grone For my misdeede Whiche doe exceede And stincke before thy christall throne My synnes like Skarlet seme in sight Oh make them Lorde like woll very white Like Purple thei appeare I saie But thou like Milke canst them conuaie Dauid iuste did not mistruste Thy mercie when he kneeled in duste And on his backe A hearie sacke Did weare as scripture haue discuste Greuouslie and bitterlie Confessyng his adulterie His murther eke With mynde moste meke When Nathan true did prophecie The plague of God against hym than Excepte to tourne forthwith he began So Dauids harte for feare of smart By true repentaunce did conuarte God forgaue and did hym saue From vengaūce iust whiche sinne did craue Oh deale with me So tenderlie That Dauids rest my soule maie haue For no doubt I goe aboute To tourne from synne that deadly route From bloudie Saule To faithfull Paule I bridle ill affections stoute Whiche did restraine my harte and minde From thee my maker louyng and kinde And did withdrawe the feare and awe Prescribed in thy holie lawe I confesse with singlenesse My former vile vngodlinesse And I despise With wepyng eyes The deadly waies of wickenesse Whiche I tooke And so forsooke The waie of life without rebuke To Christians all in generall The glorious gaines whereon to looke Whiche waie who so doeth walke a right He shall attaine the heauenly light And for rewarde of his regarde A blessed croune there is preparde Hope of this eternall blisse Hath made me leaue to runne amisse And shonne the waie Whiche brynges decaie The ends whereof destruction is Paine and woe As scriptures showe With euerlastyng ouerthrowe And therefore I this paines to die Submit my soule and seke to knowe That narrowe gate of blissed state Where is no strief nor any debate But ioye alwaies with perfecte praise Oh God vouchsafe my soule to raise Though I be vnkinde to thee In mercie father pardon me And though my race Be voide of grace Yet graunt that I thy loue maie see Though we begonne yet Lorde anone Vouchsafe that I with Simeon Maie see my wealthe And sauyng healthe I meane that stedfast corner stone Whiche of the builders was refused And in their deedes moste spitefully vsed This stone was Christ that kyngly Prieste That with his bloud our soules hath bleste Greuously and bitterlie Beholde my greate aduersitie Wherein I stande Bounde with the bande Of synne and sore captiuitie Haste then thyne eares to bowe To me opprest with sorrowe nowe On thee in haste My care I caste My praiers Lorde in faithe alowe Oh let my plaints the heauens pearse And here the suite whiche I doe rehearse Tourne not awaie thy face I praie But saue my soule from hells decaie Sathan still by wicked will Would tourne my hope from Syon hill Whiche to attaine I pitche with paine The tents of faithe though deuill nill Temptyng me to disagree From confidence oh Lorde in thee And to mistruste Thy promise iuste Whiche vnto synners shewed be But thou my God make weake his strength Least he by craft subdue me at length For I am weake in spirite I speake All Sathans slightes in sonder breake Subtilie and craftelie He sekes by deuellishe pollicie To clogge my feete In pathes vnmeete And walke in waies of vanitie Stedfastlie and zealouslie I will adore thy Maiestie And eke prepare To fixe my care Vpon thy mercie faithfullie Thus doyng still I hope by faithe Thou wilt translate to fauour thy wrathe And clense my spotte and purge the blotte That all my faults maie be forgotte Harte and tonge and greues emong Shall syng as holie Dauid song The Psalmes of praise To thee alwaies Before assemblies olde and yong Feruentlie and ardentlie My lipps thy praise shall testifie Bothe yonge and olde With hartes moste bolde Thy holie name shall magnifie And I with thankes will aye commende Thy woorkes wōders world without ende Let all adore with me therefore Thy name be praisde for euermore Finis