Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	holy_a	love_n	son_n	6,996	5	5.4915	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A77759	Midnights meditations of death: with pious and profitable observations, and consolations : perused by Francis Quarles a little before his death. / Published by E.B.; A buckler against the fear of death.	Buckler, Edward, 1610-1706.; Benlowes, Edward, 1603?-1676, attributed name.; Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644.	1646 (1646)	Wing B5350; Thomason E1164_3; ESTC R208713	41,632	130

That I could wish What I would have him be God is Would I be compassed about With mercie find relief in miserie Would I by his Spirit be led And have all my sinnes forgiven And hereafter go to heaven All this God hath promised So free that to deserve that promis'd glory I nothing have but what his mercie gave me 'T is gratis rather then compensatorie Whatever God doth to convert or save me And if any good I do 'T is done by supplies Divine So Gods work and none of mine Grace begins and ends it too What if by nature I was made a sheep And by corruption I am gone astray Whether I think or speak or do or sleep Or wake do ever wander from the way I was set in and am toss'd So by lust that my soul wanders Into many by-meanders Like a sillie sheep that 's lost Yet God 's my shepherd When his mercy spi'd me Wandring it brought me home and ever since It doth watch over feed defend and guide me And ever will do so till I go hence And hereafter in the even When my latest sand is runne And my pasture here is done It will fold my soul in heaven The Sonne doth comfort 'T was his errand down To preach glad tidings to the meek and turn Their wo to ease to earn a glorious crown For sinners and to comfort those that mourn Broken-hearted ones to bind And to set at libertie Pris'ners in captivitie And give eye-sight to the blind There 's comfort in his wounds His sacred stripes Do heal our leprous souls of all their sores 'T is nothing but his pretious bloud that wipes Our guilt away and cancelleth our scores Six times did he shed his bloud And sure out estate did need it That so many times he did it And each drop was for our good Those circumcision-drops of 's infancie Those drops that 's anguish in the garden vented Those drops when he was scourged Jewishly Those drops when 's head with sharpest thorns was tented Those drops when his limbs were nailed To the crosse those when the fierce Souldiers spear his side did pierce Each drop for our good prevailed There 's comfort in his crosse That vile old man That hangs about us to our dying day Is crucified with him that it can Not exercise half of its wonted sway Lessened is its kingly power Surely sinne it struggles so Hath receiv'd a mortall blow And is dying everie houre There 's comfort in his death For us he dy'd For us he felt his Fathers heavie wrath And his impartiall justice satisfi'd And us his alsufficient passion hath Pluck'd from Satan vi armis And his meritorious pain Freed us from sinnes guilt and stain And whatever else might harm us There 's comfort in his resurrection too He rose again that we might be accounted Righteous and just This no man else could do And that our sinnes whose number farre surmounted All the starres that shine in heaven All our hairs and all the sand That lies scattered on the strand For his sake might be forgiven And God the holy Ghost doth comfort bring By speciall office it is his imployment To settle in the soul a lively spring From whence doth issue such a sweet enjoyment Of divine heart-pleasing blisse As the world will not believe Nor can any heart conceive But the heart wherein it is It is this blessed Spirit that doth seal Assurance to my conscience of a share In what God in and through his Sonne doth deal To needy sinners that converted are It assures me of Gods love In the free and full remission Of my sinnes and exhibition Of those joyes that are above Let now the world that 's wont to tell a storie Of strange delights shew me but such a pleasure As to be sure of God and Christ and glory And then I 'll hug it as my choicest treasure Thus each Person of the three Is imploy'd if I do live Holy as I ought to give Joy and comfort unto me Grant a man once to be in Christ and he On sublunarie pleasures soon will trample And yet for pleasures who shews best will vie With all the world give him but one example What gets pleasure and what feeds it Whatsoe'r mongst earthly things To the mind most pleasure brings He can shew what farre exceeds it Can learning please he is a man of parts Me thinks sure at his very fingers end He hath exactly all the liberall arts At least he hath such arts as will commend Any man a great deal more And will sooner bring to heaven Then will any of those seven On which learned men do pore His Logick is so scientificall His Syllogismes are in so blest a mood A thousand arguments his heart lets fall That rightly from good premises conclude Him a child of God on high And a member of his Sonne And an heir when 's race is runne Of a blest Eternitie His Rhetorick excells He can perswade More then those well-penn'd sweet orations which Demosthenes or Tullie ever made Doth he that prayer-hearing God beseech Presently his eare he gains For fine words it is no matter Let him like a swallow chatter Or a crane yet he obtains And for Arithmetick his numeration Is of his dayes this makes the man applie His heart to wisdome that in any station He may perform his dutie prudently And those sinnes to make them hatefull Which his conscience most do cumber Everie day the man doth number And Gods blessings to be gratefull And for Addition 't is his diligence Vertue to adde to faith to vertue knowledge Love godlinesse peace kindnesse patience One to another that his soul 's a Colledge Filled with divinest graces And not one grace idle lies But all do their exercise In their severall turns and places When he subtracteth 't is not from the poore As most men do not from the King nor Church But from sinnes monstrous bodie More and more He weakens the old man that lies at lurch In each of his faculties And his master-sinne the strongest Lust that hath been harboured longest In his soul he mortifies He multiplies not as in many places Men do his riches but he multiplies And doth augment his saving gifts and graces If not in habit yet in exercise He divides his goods he feedeth Hungrie bellies and relieveth Such as are distress'd and giveth Unto everie one that needeth When he reduceth 't is his conversation In ev'rie point from what it was by nature He moulds his life into another fashion And shews himself to be a new-made creature And for such a mans Progression He 's not fixed in his place Like a statue but in grace Grows to credit his profession He ever worketh by the Rule of Three That do above in heaven bear record The Golden Rule whereby his actions be Squar'd and directed is their written word Though sometimes he work by Fractions Gives God broken services 'Cause he 's flesh in part yet is He

work of Gods To make them better then at first they were Glorious immortall sound Nimble beautifull and so Splendid that from top to toe Not a blemish may be found What begger weeps when 's rags are thrown away To put on better clothes Who is 't will grieve To pull a rotten house down that it may Be fairer built Why should we not receive Death with both hands when he comes To pull off those rags that hide us To unhouse us and provide us Richer clothes and better homes The griping pangs of Death do not affright My heart at all I have deserved mo And if upon no other terms I might Enjoy my God I to my God would go Through hells self although a throng Of an hundred thousand juries Of the black'st infernall Furies Claw'd me as I went along Nor can those inward terrours make me quake Which Death-beds often on the soul do bring I have no Death-bed-reck'nings for to make 'T was made while I was well and every thing Was dispatch'd before that I Nothing in the world now save Home-desiring longings have Then to do but just to die Nor doth it trouble me that Death will take me From those delights that are enjoy'd below Alas I know that none of them can make me One jote the happier man nor can bestow Any comfort Carnall gladnesse Mirth delight and jollity This worlds best felicitie All is vanity and madnesse Mere empty husks Had I as many treasures In my possession as the muddiest wretch Did ever covet and as many pleasures As from the creature fleshly men can fetch Had I this or if I were Supreme Monarch onely Lord Of what earth and sea afford Yet I would not settle here To be dissolv'd is better Death doth bring A fairer fortune then it takes away It sets us in a world where every thing Is a happinesse a full and solid joy Not to be conceiv'd before We come thither but the blisse Which exceedeth all is this That there we shall sinne no more Lord grant a copious portion of thy Spirit The more I have of that the lesse I fear What Death can do for sure I shall inherit All joy in heaven if I am holy here Nought suits with heaven but sanctitie Let my God thy Spirit and grace Fit me for that holy place And that holy companie Meditation 5. IF Death will come what do men mean to sinne With so much greedinesse me thinks I see What a sad case the godlesse world is in How fast asleep in her securitie Fearlessely in sinne men live As if Death would never come Or there were no day of doom When they must a reck'ning give Observe a little yonder black-mouth'd swearer How 's tongue with oathes and curses pelts the skies 'T would grieve the heart of any pious hearer But to bear witnesse of his blasphemies He darts wounds at God on high Puts on cursing as his clothes And doth wrap his tongue in oathes To abuse Eternity In lawlesse lust the fornicatour fries And longs to slake it 'twixt forbidden sheets Ne'r sets the sunne but his adulterous eyes Observes the twilight and his harlot meets That which follows when the night Draws its curtain o'r the air To conceal this goatish pair Modesty forbids to write And I could shew you were it worth the viewing In that room three or foure drunkards reeling In this as many more that sweat with spewing Some that have drunk away their sense and feeling Men of all sorts in their wine And their ale sit domineering Cursing railing roring swearing Under every baser signe 'T is said so vile is this big-belly'd sinne That in a day and lesse some foure or five Of lustie drunken throats will swallow in More then hath kept two families alive A whole forthnight yet made they Merrie with 't Had I my wishes Such gulls should not drink like fishes But their throats should chāge their trade The covetous man with his usurious clutches Doth catch and hold fast all the wealth he may He leans on 't as a creeple on his crutches The miser studies nothing night and day But his gain he 's like a swine Looking downward like a mole Blind and of an earthen soul Minding nothing that 's divine These and beside these other sorts of sinners In every parish you may dayly see As greedy at their sinnes as at their dinners And wallowing in all impiety Sure these miscreants do never Entertein a thought of dying Nor yet are afraid of frying In hell flames for altogether Thou God of spirits be pleas'd to aw my heart With death and judgement that when I would sinne I may remember that I must depart And whatsoe're condition I am in When I sink under Deaths hand There 's no penance in the grave Nor then can I mercy have So must I in judgement stand Meditation 6. Lord what a thief is Death it tobs us quite Of all the world great men of all their honours Luxurious men of all their fond delight Rich men of all their money farms and mannours Naked did the world find us And the world will leave us so We shall carrie when we go Nothing but leave all behind us Let Death do 's worst ambitious men do climb By any sinne though it be ne're so foul Gold-thirsty misers swallow any crime That brings gain with it though it kill the soul Here for gain is over-reaching Cosening cheating lying stealing Knavish and sinister dealing All arts of the devils teaching Whilst I am well advis'd I 'll never strive T' increase my wealth if 't will increase my sinne I will be rather poore then seek to thrive By means unlawfull all 's not worth a pinne When mine eye-lids Death doth close What I sinned for must be Shak'd hands with eternally But the sinne that with me goes I 'll not wast love upon these lower things Nor on the choicest of them doting sit For when sad Death a habeas corpus brings To take the world from me and me from it 'gainst which I have no protection To spend love in what I may No where but on earth enjoy Were to loose all my affection The longest lease of temporalls God doth make Is but for life I 'll patiently behave My self though from me God be pleas'd to take In middle age that which his bounty gave Neither discontent nor passion Shall make me repine or grumble 'T is a way to make me humble And takes from me a temptation Thou mad'st my heart Lord keep it for thy self Lest love of dust eternally undo me Vouchsafe that this vain worthlesse empty pelf May never win me though it daily woo me If 't were lovely yet 't is gone When I dy Lord make me see That there is enough in thee To place all my love upon Meditation 7. I Am a stranger and a pilgrime here The world 's mine inne 't is not my dwelling-place In this condition all my fathers were The life I live below is but a race