Selected quad for the lemma: truth_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
truth_n	holy_a	lord_n	spirit_n	8,095	5	5.0560	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A68624	Emblemes by Fra: Quarles	Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650, engraver.; Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644. Hieroglyphikes of the life of man. aut; Simpson, William, fl. 1635-1646, engraver.	1639 (1639)	STC 20542; ESTC S115515	99,172	392

mine My flames are full of heav'n and all divine How often have I sought this Bed by night To find that greater by this lesser light How oft has my unwitnest groanes lamented Thy dearest absence Ah how often vented The bitter Tempests of despairing breath And tost my soule upon the waves of death How often has my melting heart made choice Of silent teares teares lowder than a voice To plead my griefe and woo thy absent eare And yet thou wilt not come thou wilt not heare O is thy wonted love become so cold Or do mine eyes not seeke thee where they should Why do I seeke thee if thou art not here Or find thee not if thou art ev'ry where I see my error 'T is not strange I could not Find out my love I sought him where I should not Thou art not found in downy Beds of ease ●as thy musick strikes on harder keyes Nor art thou found by that false feeble light Of Natures Candle Our Aegyptian night Is more than common darkenesse nor can we Expect a morning but what breaks from Thee Well may my empty Bed lament thy losse When thou art lodg'd upon thy shamefull Crosse If thou refuse to share a Bed with me Wee 'l never part I le share a Crosse with Thee ANSELM in Protolog Cap. 1. Lord if thou are not present where shall I seeke thee absent If every where why do I not see thee present Thou dwellest in light inaccessible and where is that inaccessible light Or how shall I have accesse to light inaccessible I beseech thee Lord teach me to seeke thee and show thy selfe to the seeker because I can neither seeke thee unlesse thou teach me nor find thee unlesse thou show thy selfe to me Let me seeke thee in desiring thee and desire thee in seeking thee Let me find thee in loving thee and love thee in finding thee EPIG 10. Where shouldst thou seeke for rest but in thy Bed But now thy Rest is gone thy Rest is fled 'T is vaine to seeke him there My soule be wise Go ask thy sinnes They 'l tell thee where he lies XII Saw yee him whom my Soule loveth It was but a little that I passed from them but I found Him whom my soule loveth I held Him and would not let him goe Cant 3.4 Will sim sculp XII CAN. III. III Have you seene him whom my soule loveth When I had past a little from them then I found him I tooke hold on him and left him not 1 WHat secret corner What unwonted way Has scap'd the ransack of my rambling thoughts The Fox by night nor the dull Owle by day Have never search'd those places I have sought Whilst thy lamented absence taught my brest The ready Road to Griefe without request My day had neither comfort nor my night had rest 2 How has my unregarded language vented The sad Tautologies of lavish passion How often have I languish'd unlamented How oft have I complain'd without compassion I ask the Citie-Watch but some deny'd me The common streit whilst others would misguide me Some would debarre me some divert me some deride me 3 Mark how the widow'd Turtle having lost The faithfull partner of her loyall Heart Stretches her feeble wings from Coast to Coast Haunts ev'ry path thinks ev'ry shade does part Her absent Love and her At length unsped She re-betakes her to her lovely Bed And there bewailes her everlasting widow-head 4 So when my soule had progrest ev'ry place That love and deare affection could contrive I threw me on my Couch resolv'd t' embrace A death for him in whom I ceas'd to live But there injurious Hymen did present His Lanskip joyes my pickled eyes did vent Full streames of briny teares teares never to be spent 5 Whilst thus my sorrow-wasting soule was feeding Vpon the rad'call Humour of her thought Ev'n whilst mine eyes were blind and heart was bleeding He that was sought unfound was found unsought As if the Sun should dart his Orbe of light Into the secrets of the black-brow'd night Ev'n so appear'd my Love my sole my soules delight 6 O how mine eyes now ravish'd at the sight Of my bright Sun shot flames of equall fire Ah! how my soule dissolv'd with ov'r-delight To re-enjoy the Crowne of chast desire How sov'raigne joy depos'd and dispossest Rebellious griefe And how my ravisht brest But who can presse those heights that cannot be exprest 7 O how these Armes these greedy Armes did twine And strongly twist about his yeelding wast The sappy branches of the Thespian vine Nev'r cling'd their lesse beloved Elme so fast Boast not thy flames blind boy nor feather'd shot Let Himens easie snarles be quite forgot Time cannot quench our fires nor death dissolve our knot ORIG. Hom. 10. in divers O most holy Lord and sweetest Master how good art thou to those that are of upright heart and humble spirit O how blessed are they that seeke thee with a simple heart How happy that trust in thee It is a most certaine truth that thou lovest all that love thee and never forsakest those that trust in thee For behold thy Love simply sought thee and undoubtedly found thee She trusted in thee and is not forsaken of thee but hath obtained more by thee than she expected from thee BEDE cap. 3. Cant. The longer I was in finding whom I sought the more earnestly I held him being found EPIG 12. What found him out Let strong embraces bind him Hee 'l fly perchance where teares can never find him New Sins will lose what old Repentance gaines Wisedome not onely gets but got retaines XIII It is good for me to draw neare to the Lord 〈◊〉 I haue put my trust in the Lord God Ps 73.20 Will Simpson ●●●lpsit XIII PSAL. LXXII XXVIII It is good for me to draw neare to God I have put my trust in the Lord God WHere is that Good which wisemen please to call The Chiefest Does there any such befall Within mans reach Or is there such a Good at all If such there be it neither must expire Nor change than which there can be nothing higher Such Good must be the utter point of mans desire It is the Mark to which all hearts must tend Can be desired for no other end The● for it selfe on which all other Goods depend What may this Exc'lence be does it subsist A reall Essence clouded in the midst Of curious Art or cleare to ev'ry eye that list Or is' t a tart Idea to procure An Edge and keepe the practick soule in ure Like that deare Chymick dust or puzzling Quadrature Where shall I seek this Good Where shall I find This Cath'licke pleasure whose extreames may bind My thoughts and fill the gulph of my insatiate mind Lies it in Treasure In full heaps untold Does gowty Mammons griping hand infold This secret Saint in sacred Shrines of sov'raigne Gold No no she lies not there Wealth often sowrs In keeping makes us hers in seeming

this wooes thee to th' eternall curse O charming Tyrant how hast thou befool'd And slav'd poore man that would not if he could Avoid thy Line thy Lure nay could not if he would 4 Alas thy sweet perfidious voice betrayes His wanton eares with thy Syrenian baits Thou wrapft his eyes in mists then boldly layes Thy Lethall Ginns before their Christall Ga●s Thou lock'st up ev'ry Sense with thy false kayes All willing Pris'ners to thy close deceits His eare most nimble whereit deafe should be His eye most blind where most it ought to see And when his heart 's most bound then thinks it self most free 5 Thou grand Imposter how hast thou obtain'd The wardship of the world Are all men turn'd Ideots and Lunaticks Are all retain'd Beneath thy servile bands Is none return'd To his forgotten selfe Has none regain'd His senses Are their senses all adjourn'd What none dismist thy Court will no plumpe Fee Bribe thy false fists to make a glad Decree T'unfoole whom thou hast fool'd and set thy pris'ners free S. BERN. in Ser. In this world is much treacherie little truth here all things are traps here every thing is be set with snares here soules are endanger'd bodies are afflicted Here all things are vanity and vexation of spirit EPIG 3. Nay Cupid pitch thy Trammill where thou please Thou canst not faile to take such fish as these Thy thriving sport will nev'r be spent no need To feare when ev'ry Corck's a world Thou 'lt speed IV. Cuam graue seruitium est quod scuis esca parit IV. HOS XIII III They shal be as the chaffe that is driven with a whirlewind out of the floore and as the smoke out of the chimney FLint-hearted Stoicks you whose marble eyes Contemne a wrinckle and whose soules despise To follow Natures too affected Fashion Or travell in the Regent-walk of Passion Whose rigid hearts disdaine to shrink at Feares Or play at fast and loose with Smiles and Teares Come burst your spleenes with laughter to behold A new found vanity which ' dayes of old Nev'r knew A vanitie that has beset The world and made more slaves then Mahomet That has condemn'd us to the servile yoke Of slavery and made us slaves to smoke But stay why taxe I thus our moderne times For new-blowne Follies and for new-borne Crimes Are we sole guilty and the first Age free No they were smoak'd and slav'd as well as we What 's sweet-lipt Honours blast but smoke What 's treasure But very smoke And what more smoke than pleasure Alas they 'r all but shadowes Fumes and blasts That vanishes this fades the other wasts The restlesse Merchant he that loves to steepe His braines in wealth and layes his soule to sleepe In bags of Bullion sees th' immortall Crowne And faine would mount but Ingots keep him downe He brags today perchance and begs to morrow He lent but now wants Credit now to borrow Blow windes the Treasur's gone the Merchant 's brok A slave to silver 's but a slave to smoke Behold the Glory-vying Childe of Fame That from deep wounds sucks forth an honour'd name Tha● thinks no purchase worth the stile of good But what is sold for sweat and seal'd with blood That for a Point a blast of empty breath Vndaunted gazes in the face of death Whose deare bought Bubble fild with vaine renowne Breaks with a Phillip or a Gen'ralls frowne His stroke got Honour staggers with a stroke A Slave to Honour is a Slave to Smoke And that fond soule which wasts his idle dayes In loose delights and sports about the Blaze Of Cupids Candle he that daily spies Twin Babies in his Mistresse Gemenies Whereto his sad devotion does impart The sweet burnt offring of a bleeding heart See how his wings are sing'd in Cyprian fire Whose flames consume with youth in Age expire The world 's a Bubble all the pleasures in it Like morning vapours vanish in a minit The vapours vanish and the Bubble's broke A slave to pleasure is a slave to smoke Now Stoick cease thy laughter and repast Thy pickled cheeks with Teares and weep as fast S. HIEROM That rich man is great who thinkes not himselfe great because he is rich● the proud man who is the poore man brags outwardly but begs inwardly He is blowne up but not full PETR RAV Vexation and anguish accompany riches and honour The pompe of the world and the favour of the people are but smoake and a blast suddenly vanishing which if they commonly please commonly bring repentance and for a minut of joy they bring an age of sorrow EPIG 4. Cupid thy diet 's strange It dulls It rowzes It cooles It heats it binds and then it looses Dull-sprightly-cold-hot Foole if ev'r it winds thee Into a loosenesse once take heed It binds thee V. Non omne quod hîc micat aurum est Will Marshall sculpsit V PRO. XXIII V Wilt thou set thine eyes upon that which is not for riches make themselves wings they flie away as an Eagle 1 FAlse world thou ly'st Thou canst not lend The least delight Thy favours cannot gaine a Friend They are so sleight Thy morning pleasures make an end To please at night Poore are the wants that thou supply'st And yet thou vaun'st and yet thou vy'st With heav'n Fond earth thou boasts False world thou ly'st 2 Thy babbling Tongue tels golden Tales Of endlesse Treasure Thy bountie offers easie sales Of lasting pleasure Thou asks the Conscience what she ailes And swear'st to ease her Ther 's none can want where thou supply'st There 's none can give where thou deny'st Alas fond world thou boasts false world thou ly'st 3 What well advised eare regards What earth can say Thy words are Gold but thy rewards Are painted Clay Thy cunning can but pack the Cards Thou canst not play Thy game at weakest still thou vy'st If seen and then revy'd deny'st Thou art not what thou seem'st False world thou ly'st 4 Thy tinsill boosome seemes a Mint Of new-coynd treasure A Paradise that has no stint No change no measure A painted Cask but nothing in 't Nor wealth nor pleasure Vaine earth that falsly thus comply'st With man Vaine man that thus rely'st On earth Vaine man thou dot'st Vaine earth thou ly'st 5 What meane dull soules in this high measure To haberdash In earths base wares whose greatest treasure Is drosse and trash The height of whose inchaunting pleasure Is but a Flash Are these the goods that thou supply'st Vs mortalls with Are these the high'st Can these bring cordiall peace False world thou ly'st PET. BLES This world is deceitfull Her end is doubtfull Her conclusion is horrible Her judge is terrible And her punishment is intolerable S. AUGUST lib. Confess The vaine glory of this world is a deceitfull sweetnesse a fruitlesse labour a perpetuall feare a dangerous honour Her beginning is without providence end her and not without repentance EPIG 5. World th' art a Traytor Thou hast stampt thy