Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	heart_n	holy_a	let_v	7,137	5	4.4451	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A43384	Select hymns, taken out of Mr. Herbert's Temple, and turn'd into the common metre To be sung in the tunes ordinarily us'd in churches.; Temple. Selections	Herbert, George, 1593-1633.; Woodford, Samuel, 1636-1700.	1697 (1697)	Wing H1515A; ESTC R221290	17,526	49

prove If thou giv'st Wealth I will restore All back unto Thee by the Poor If Thou giv'st Honour Men shall see The Honour doth belong to Thee If Bosom-Friends should rend thy Name I will rend thence their Love and Fame The World and I 'll fall out the Year Shall not perceive that I am here My Musick shall find Thee each string Shall have its Attribute to sing That all may well accord in Thee And prove one God one Harmony The Agony To the Tune of Psalm 119. 1. PHilosophers have measur'd Hills Fathom'd Seas traced Springs Walk't with their Iacob's-staff to Heaven But there are two vast things The which to measure sound or trace It doth them most behove Yet few or none can find their depth These two are Sin and Love 2. Who would know Sin let him repair To Olivet and see One wrung with Pains that Skin and Hair And Garments bloody be For Sin and Wrath the Wine-press was Which squeez'd Him forcing Pain Through Soul and Body Head and Heart Hands Feet and every Vein 3. Who knows not Love let him but taste The Juice a Souldiers Pike Did set abroach then let him tell Who e're did taste the like Love is that Liquor passing-sweet A Drink that is Divine 'T is what my God did feel as Blood But what I taste as Wine The Passion To the Tune of Psalm 100. SInce Blood is fittest Lord to write Thy Sorrows in and bloody flight My Heart hath store write there wherein One Box doth lye both Ink and Sin That when Sin spies so many Foes Thy Whips thy Nails thy Wounds thy Woes All come to lo●g● there Sin may say No room for me and fly away Sin being g 〈…〉 oh fill the place And keep Possession with thy Grace Lest Sin take Courage and return And all the Writings blot or burn Easter To the Tune of Psalm 100. THe Lord is risen sing his Praise Rise thou my Heart without delaies Awake my Lute and do thy Part Or struggle for 't with all thy Art The Cross hath taught this Wood His Name To sound who once did bear the same Strecht Sinews teach these Strings what Key Is best to celebrate this Day Both Heart and Lute shall twist a Song In Holy Consort good and long And let thy Spirit bear a Part To mend our faults by his sweet Art I got me Flowers to strow the way I got me Boughs of many a Tree But thou wast up by break of Day And brought'st thy Sweets along with Thee The Sun arising in the East Though He give Light and th' East perfume If they should offer to contest With thy arising they presume Can there be any Day but this Though many Suns to shine endeavour We count three Hundred but we miss There is but One and that One ever Prayer PRayer the Churches Banquet is Prayer the Angels Age Prayer the Soul in Paraphrase The Heart in Pilgrimage God's breath in Man returning thither From whence it had its Birth Prayer the Christian Plummet is That soundeth Heav'n and Earth Prayer reversed Thunder is And Christ's side-peircing Spear Prayer's a kind of heav'nly Tune Which all things hear and fear Engine against the Almighty One It is the Sinners Tower The World that was a Six-days Work Transposing in an Hour Softness and Peace and Spiritual Joy Prayer is Love and Bliss It is as 't were the Milky-way The Bird of Paradice Prayer exalted Manna is And gladness of the best Heaven in Ordinary 't is Prayer is Man well drest The Church-Bell's heard beyond the Stars It is the Souls Heart-blood A kind of Land of Spices 't is And something understood Holy Communion NOt in a rich or fine Aray Nor in a wedge of Gold Dost thou thy self to me convey Who once for me wast Sold. But in a way of Nourishment Thou creep'st into my Breast Setting my Soul upon the wing To fly unto her rest Give me my Captive Soul or take My Body also thither Another lift like this will make Them both to be together Before that Sin turn'd Flesh to Stone And all our Lump to Leaven A fervent Sigh might well have blown Our inn'cent Earth to Heaven For sure when Adam did not know To Sin or Sin to smother He might to Heaven from Paradise go As from one room t'another Thou hast restor'd us to this ease By this thy Heavenly Blood Which I can go to when I please And leave th' Earth to their Food Antiphon To the Tune of Psalm 148. Vers. THe Heav'ns are not too high His Praise may thither fly The Earth is not too low His Praises there may grow Chor. Let all the World Rejoyce and Sing And still repeat My God and King Vers. The Church with Psalms must shout No Door can keep them out But above all the Heart Must bear the longest part Chor. Let all the World Rejoyce and Sing And still repeat My God and King The Temper HOw should I Praise thee and my Rhymes Engrave thy Love in Steel If what my Soul doth feel sometimes My Soul might ever feel Though there were forty Heav'ns or more I peer above them all Sometimes I hardly reach a score Sometimes to Hell I fall O rack me not to such extent Such distance is for Thee The World 's too little for thy Tent A Grave too big for me Wilt thou mete Arms with Man or stretch Thy Dust from Heav'n to Hell Will great God measure with a Wretch Shall He thy Stature Spell O when thy Roof my Soul hath hid Let me but Nestle there Then of a Sinner thou art rid And I of Hope and Fear Yet take thy way for that is best Stretch or Contract thy Debtor This is but tuning of my Breast To make the Musick better Pentecost To the Tune of Psalm 100. LIsten sweet Dove unto my Song And spread thy golden Wings on me Hatching my tender Heart so long Till it get Wing and fly with Thee Where is that Fire which once descended On thy Apostles Thou didst then Keep open House richly attended Feasting all Comers by Twelve Men. Such glorious Gifts thou didst bestow That th' Earth did like a Heav'n appear The Stars were coming down to know How to mend Wages and serve here The Sun which once did shine alone Hung down his Head and wisht for Night When He beheld twelve Suns for one Tracing the World and giving Light But since those Pipes of Gold which brought The Cordial Water to our ground Were out and martyr'd by their fault Who did themselves through their Sides wound Thou shut'st the Door and keep'st within Scarce a good Joy creeps through the Chink And if the braves of Conquering Sin Did not excite Thee we should sink Lord though we change thou art the same The same sweet God of Love and Light Restore this Day for thy great Name Unto its ancient glorious Right Dominica Trinitatis To the Tune of Psalm 67. THou 'st fram'd me out of Mud Redeem'd me

with thy Blood And sanctifi'd me with thy Grace And all to do me good My Sins done heretofore Purge for that heavy score I do confess and hate and I Will strive to Sin no more My Heart Mouth Hands in me With Faith Hope Charity Enrich O Lord that so I may Rise run and rest with Thee Avarice To the Tune of Psalm 67. MOney thou source of Wo Although thou art so fine Thy Parantage is base and low Found in a dirty Mine Thou could'st so little do For th' Kingdom thou hast got That Man was fain to Dig thee out Of thy dark Cave and Grot. Brightned by Fire thou 'st got The Face of Man for we Transfer our Right thou art the Man And we but dross to Thee Man calleth Thee his Wealth And yet He made Thee Rich And while with pains He digs out Thee Himself falls in the Ditch Submission BUt that thou art my Wisdom Lord And both mine Eyes are thine My Mind would be extreamly stirr'd For missing my design Were it not better to bestow Some Place or Power on me Then should thy Praises with me grow And share in my degree But when I thus dispute and grieve I do resume my sight And pilfring what I once did give Disseise thee of thy Right How know I if thou should'st me raise That I should then raise thee Perhaps great Places and thy Praise Do not so well agree Wherefore unto my Gift I stand I will no more advise Only do thou lend me an Hand Since thou hast both mine Eyes Mortification 1. HOw soon doth Man decay When clothes Took from a Chest of sweets To swaddle Infants seem to be Their little winding Sheets Boys step as 't were into their Graves When they go first to Bed Sleep binds them fast only their Breath Shews that they are not Dead 2. When Youth is frank and free and while His Veins with Blood do swell Calling for Mirth his Musick then Doth summon to his Knell When Man grows staid and coveteth An House and Home to have That Dumb inclosure maketh Love T' a Coffin or a Grave 3. When Age grows low or weak it marks The Grave which He draws near His Chair or Litter where He sits Or lies is like his Bier And thus Man's last Solemnity Is fixt ere He 's aware He dresseth up his Herse while He Hath Breath as yet to spare Misery To the Tune of Psalm 100. LOrd let the Angels Praise thy Name Man is an empty foolish Thing Folly and Sin play all his Game His House doth burn yet He doth Sing What strange Pollutions doth He wed As if none knew his Works but He No Man shall beat into his Head Thou canst within His Curtains see The best of Men turn but thine Hand One Moment stumble at a Pin They would not have their Actions scan'd Nor Sorrow tell them that they Sin My God Man cannot Praise thy Name Thou art all perfect Purity The Sun holds down his Head for shame Eclipsed when we speak of Thee As dirty Hands foul all they touch And those things most which are most fine So our Clay-Hearts ev'n when we Sing Thy Praises make them less Divine Man cannot serve Thee let Him go And serve the Swine where 's his Delight He likes not Vertue let him have His Dirt to wallow in all Night Indeed at first Man was a Treasure A Box of precious Rarities A Ring whose Posie was my Pleasure A Garden in a Paradice But Sin hath fool'd him now He is A Lump of Flesh without a Wing To raise Him to the Glimpse of Bliss A Vessel dash'd on every Thing Obedience To the Tune of Psalm 67. MY God if Writings may Convey Estates away Why may not this poor Paper do For me as much as they On it my Heart doth bleed As many Lines as need To pass it self away and I Own it my Act and Deed. If that hereafter Pleasure Cavil and claim her Measure I here exclude the wrangler from Any part of thy Treasure Oh let thy Sacred Will All thy delight fulfil Let me not Think or Act but as Resign'd up to thy skill Lord what is Man to Thee But as a rotten Tree Yet since thou seest all thou canst As will me Guide as see He that will pass his Land With me may set his hand Unto this Deed to both our Goods If He to it will stand How happy were my Part If some one will his heart Enter with me in Heav'ns Court-Rolls Far above our Desert Home To the Tune of Psalm 100. COme Lord my Head and Heart is sick Whilst thou dost ever ever stay Thy long delaies wound to the quick My Spirit gaspeth Night and Day How can'st thou stay seeing the pace The Blood did make which thou didst waste Viewing it trickle down thy Face I never saw thing make such haste When Man was lost thou look'st about To see what help in th' Earth or Sky But there was none no help without The help did in thy Bosom lye There lay thy Son and must He leave That Hive of sweetness to remove Thraldom from those who at a Feast Left not one Apple for thy Love He did He came O Saviour Dear After all this canst thou be strange So long baptiz'd and not appear As if thy Love could fail or change Yet if thou stay'st why must I stay My God what is this World to me This World of Wo Ye Clouds away Away I must get up and see With one small Sigh the other Day I blasted all the Joys about me And scouling as they past away Now come again said I and flout me Both Drought and Dearth both Bush and Brake Which way so e're I look I see We may Dream here but when we wake We dress our selves and come to Thee We talk of Harvests there are none But when we leave our Corn and Hay The fruitful Year is that which brings The last and lov'd though dreadful Day This Frame this Knot of Man untye That my free Soul may use her wing Now pinion'd with Mortality As an entangled hamper'd thing What 's left that I should stay and groan The most of me to Heav'n is fled My Thoughts and Joys packt up and gone And for their old Acquaintance plead Oh shew me in thy Temple here Thy wondrous Grace thy special Love Or take me up to dwell with Thee Within thy glorious House above Dulness WHy langish I as if all Earth Thus drooping dead and dull O give me quickness that with Mirth I may Thee Praise brim-full The wanton in a curious strain Can Praise His fairest Fair And with quaint Metaphors again Curl o're her curled Hair Thou alone Beauty are to me Loveliness Life and Light Thy bloody Death and undeserv'd Makes thee pure Red and White Where are my Lines Approaches Views Where are my Window-Songs Lovers pretending are their Muse Is sharp'ned by their wrongs But I am lost in Flesh and mock't By sugar'd Fallacies Sure