Selected quad for the lemma: work_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
work_n	day_n	lord_n	week_n	6,148	5	10.2436	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A67822	The idea of Christian love being a translation, at the instance of Mr. Waller, of a Latin sermon upon John xiii, 34, 35, preach'd by Mr. Edward Young ... ; with a large paraphrase on Mr. Waller's poem Of divine love ; to which are added some copies of verses from that excellent poetess Mrs. Wharton, with others to her.	Young, Edward, 1641 or 2-1705.; Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. Of divine love.; Wharton, Anne, 1632?-1685. Poems. Selections.	1688 (1688)	Wing Y61; ESTC R14445	29,505	144

Birth indulg'd his Stay. And like Old Sime'on now he 'l go in Peace When such a Crown he to his Wishes sees In Verse's Empire as of lower Things Successors nam'd take from the present Kings And thus this Prince of Verse divides his Fame When he your Worth and Title do's proclaim While I Prometheus-like steal Fire from you To my bold Theft what Punishment is due None can of you and Waller write in Prose Yet none should do 't but whom kind Nature chose Like Icarus with borrow'd Wings I fly And with his Fate I soon extended lye I' th' Oce'an of your Praise I have been drown'd And am but floting on the Water found No signs of true Poetick Life appear But th' loss will not deserve a Lady's Tear A Lady's Tear's a Pearl of greater price Than any on the Eastern Shoars there lies But her Esteem's a Jewel far above Ev'n her own Beauty next unto her Love. To slight what 's consecrated thus by you Were both Injustice and Profaneness too Your Stamp like Caesar's Head does value give Each Line approv'd by you shall through all Ages live From Mrs. WHARTON SMall are the poor Returns which you receive For all the Pleasure which your Verses give Yet Gratitude obliges me to this Tho for your Pearls I but return you Glass This Indi'an Traffick soon will tire you quite Unless you 're pleas'd that others you delight And if your Gen'rous Thoughts I rightly guess They aim at pleasing and they have Success It is the Business and the Scope of Wit Poems are seldom for the Authors writ But for the Readers thus they labour still Like harmless Bees to serve another's Will. Whilst you I praise Words flow methinks so fast As if my working Thoughts were all in haste Your Stile I may commend whilst your unknown No breach of Modesty in this is shown Your Worth will force this Tribute from my Heart Nor can I backward be to praise Desert Mrs. WHARTON'S PARAPHRASE Upon the 103d PSALM ADvance my Soul and all thy Pow'rs incline To praise the Lord by whom those Graces shine Praise him by whom are all those Mercies giv'n Forget not him who rules both Earth and Heav'n He who forgives and heals the wounded Mind He who to Mercy ever is inclin'd Who saves thy Life and blesseth it with Food Who crowns thy Labours with abundant Good. Who makes thy Years renew and keeps thee Young Joyful as Health and as the Eagle strong The Lord who judges between wrong and right To favour the Oppress'd is his Delight He who to Moses shew'd his wond'rous Ways And Isr'el taught to magnify his Praise The Lord who alway is to Peace inclin'd Who suffers long bears with th' humble Mind Gentle and Mild unwilling yet to chide Soon he forgives long will his Anger hide Tho we offend he will not punish strait Our Sins are great before we feel their weight See how the Heav'n is far remov'd from Earth The Heav'n from which his Mercy takes its birth So far is his Compassion rais'd above The feeble Workings of a Mortal Love. Wide is the Space thrô which the lab'ring Sun From East to West his daily course doth run Yet farther from us he our Sins hath plac'd As willing to forget our Errors past Paternal Kindness still in him remains And his creating Favours he maintains With those that fear him he 'll not angry grow For he considers whence our Natures flow Who made us knows he took us from the Earth Nor much expects to find from such a Birth The same Original hath ev'ry Flower And they like us have a short glori'ous Hour But with the Winds their Glories fly away They are not Proof against a Stormy Day Nor we however high our Hopes advance Are Proof against a Blast of adverse Chance His Mercy 's lasting and our Life is frail Which makes the Lord his gracious Gifts entail On Children's Children where his Laws are known To them whose Works assent to Truths they own From Age to Age his Goodness hath been shown The mighty Lord on High hath plac'd his Throne Where he surveys the World which is his own Too weak am I to sing th' Eternal's Praise Ye Angels your Celestial Voices raise Ye who excel in Strength Wisdom and Pow'r Alas the Life of Man is as an Hour Ye that have priviledg to see and hear His wondrous Works should wondrous Works declare But yet poor Mortals who are plac'd below May forward Wills by faint Endeavours show We who are still in Danger and Alarms Who 'gainst Temptati'ons always are in Arms May yet endeavour to advance his Fame And he 'l be pleas'd while we invoke his Name Whilst all his Works his Greatness do proclaim But thou my Soul be never silent found Above the Clouds let thy loud Musick sound Let all who come to thee by thee be taught The mighty Works that by thy God are wrought TO ORINDA Upon her PARAPHRASE on the 103d PSALM sent with Verses to Himself I. IF Orpheus charm'd the Stones into a Dance He less the Pow'r of Sacred Song did shew Than fair Orinda 's felt from you Who to a Poet's Name And to be Candidate for Fame Ev'n duller me advance You like my Genius move unseen Raise me immerst in Business of the Barr My Lyre untun'd the Strings at jarr Suited unto that wrangling Scene Compose the Discords in my tuneless Mind A sudden Change I find Earth I despise and Earthly Things And now methinks I mount before the King of Kings II. He David taught to sing his Praise Warming his Heart with true Celestial Fire And you do's raise The Prophet's Steps so nigh to trace That well we may Without blaspheming say You the same Spirit do's delight t' inspire We cannot say that Prophecies are ceast God fills the pious Poets Breast Assists the Faculties and tho He dictate not the Words they write Yet gives the Sense from which they flow And when tow'rds Heav'n they rise Still with new Force supplies First rais'd them on the Wing and guides them in their Flight III. 'T is not in vain you bid the Angels sing Th' Eternal's Praise they minister to you Yours and David's Harp they string Mingle themselves with ev'ry Song Keep off the Demons hov'ring in the Air Distil themselves like Dew Of peaceful Night upon your Dreams And to the Morning keep th' Impression strong That Force which makes the Pow'rs of Hell despair Of a Diversion from your Heav'nly Theams What less than Angels can the Honour guard Of beauteous Ladies in the Flow'r of Youth Midst all the Flatt'ries of deluding Sense Teach them to value Truth And Truths Reward Before the Pomp and Show And ev'ry vain Pretence Of Pleasure here below Blest Souls in whom their Beauty thus do's prove The truest Image seen by Mortal Eye Of the Perfections of our God most High Feasting themselves and us with the Creator's Love IV. If by this help I thus can rise

the Tomb so many Heros taught By those that guided their Devotion fought Thrice happy we could we like Ardour have To gain his Love as they to win his Grave Love as he lov'd A Love so unconfin'd With Arms extended would embrace Mankind Self-Love would cease or be dilated when We should behold as many Selves as Men All of one Family in Blood Ally'd His precious Blood that for our Ransom dy'd Paraph. XXXVI The Drums or Trumpets horrid sound Would not the boding Heart with Terror wound Nor would the Princes cloath themselves with Steel While they than that no more relentings feel Tho 't were to gain our Saviour's Monument And like the Ark from the curst Philistines To bring it unto Israel's happy Tent. Many brave Lives were lost in such Designs Whilst subtile Men wheadling the Heros in Did unobserv'd to Empire rise These did some useless Lawrels win But they enjoy'd the solid Prize How might we pity such misguided Zeal How much these Heros would behind us come If we like Transports of Desire could feel To gain his Love as they to win his Tomb. And if his Love could ours excite To labour at an equal height With that which would embrace Mankind And grieves to see so many lagg behind For want of Love to Wing them to his Arms. Did we that Pattern emulate Self-Love would wholly cease Or else it self o're Human Race dilate While each another Self in 's Neighbour sees Whose ev'ry Vein the same Blood warms That Blood which virt'ally was shed An Antidote as soon as Sin 's first Poyson spread Mr. Waller Tho the Creation so Divinely Taught Prints such a lively Image in our Thought That the first Spark of new created Light From Chaos struck affects our present Sight Yet the first Christians did esteem more blest The Day of Rising than the Day of Rest That every Week might new occasion give To make his Triumph in their Mem'ry Live. Paraph. XXXVII To make the World and in it Man Th' Almighty Architect t' Adore Do's less of Love Divine declare Than his decayed Image to repair And when with Sins 't was sullied o're It s former Luster to restore Tho the Description giv'n us from Above Of God's first Workmanship do's strongely move And 't is so lively drawn That ev'n the first Days dawn Seems to affect our present Sight As if we saw the new created Light Just out of Chaos raise its beamy Head While as the Hemisphere it smiling spread In haste the frightful Shadows fled And the approach of unknown Day Disperst the Doemons which here wall'wing lay Yet the first Christians justly chose To praise that Day when God from 's Grave arose Before his Rest when the great Work was done And thus each Week they celebrate the rising Sun. Mr. Waller Then let our Muse compose a Sacred Charm To keep his Blood among us ever warm And singing as the Blessed do Above With our last Breath dilate this Flame of Love. But on so vast a Subject who can find Words that may reach th' Ideas of his Mind Our Language fails or if it could supply What Mortal Thought can raise it self so high Despairing here we might abandon Art And only hope to have it in our Heart Paraph. XXXVIII Then let our Muse transported with his praise Unto his Memory an Altar raise And each Lord's Day offer devoted Lays Singing and spreading out the Flame of Love Until it touch the Flaming Seat Above Where in its Element the Soul shall rest With the Reward of Love for ever blest Love the Ambrosia at the Heav'nly Feast Who can those thronging Images express That fill the Mind intent on such a Theam We here must needs our Poverty confess Where what we think is less than what we feel An Angels Hand with a Sun Beam Might such a Subject trace While we poor Earth-born Race Despairing to describe its meanest Grace Contentedly may rest Having this Deity within our Breast Tho meanly lodg'd there it delights to dwell If we cherish it with care Th' Endearments passing there No Tongue can tell No Thought can reach The Mind 's confounded when 't would dictate to the Speech Mr. Waller But tho we find this Sacred Task too hard Yet the Design th'Endeavour brings Reward The Contemplation do's suspend our Woe And makes a Truce with all the Ills we know As Saul's afflicted Spirit from the sound Of David's Harp a present Solace found So on this Theam while we our Muse engage No Wounds are felt of Fortune or of Age. On Divine Love to meditate is Peace And makes all care of meaner things to cease Paraph. XXXIX Yet the Design the bare Endeavour brings Reward beyond the Crowns of Kings The Swan can feel no Pain that dying sings And he who thinks of Sacred Love Do's with that Contemplation tune his Mind Nor can what from without do's move Disturb the Musick he within do's find While that about the Soul do's play All Ills and Evil Spirits keep away Not David's Harp with sweeter ease Did charm the Furious Saul And make his ravisht Madness fall Than this suspends our raging Woes We know not how we lose The Thoughts of what we were before And while that Harmony takes up the Soul Nothing about us can displease Love to it Self converts the whole We just are knocking at Heav'ns Door Being with all the World at Peace Just just approaching to become meer Deities Mr. Waller Amaz'd at once and comforted to find A boundless Pow'r so infinitely kind The Soul contending to that Light to fly From her dark Cell we practise how to dye Emplying thus the Poets winged Art To reach this Love and grave it in our Heart Joy so compleat so solid and severe Would leave no Place for meaner Pleasures there Pale they would look as Stars that must be gon When from the East the rising Sun comes on Paraph. XL. With what surprize of Joy do we admire Infinite Love mixt with unbounded Pow'r The Flames all Lambent which might well devour Us who lay under the Almighty's Ire Till he the Image of his Love Divine Sent down on Earth to shine And be a Leading Light To them that groap'd in gloomy Night Where Spectres of Eternal Death affright And raise them to Love's Glorious Throne Whither the Soul may often fly Upon the Wings of Contemplation Abstracted from its sordid Cell And that blest Time anticipate When free from ev'ry Weight Nor subject more to Fate We shall to live for ever dye And leave our Inn Below in Heav'n to dwell The noblest Rise and boldest Flights That thitherward are made Are by the Muses Aid Verse softens and prepares for those Delights Which Angels do in Numbers sing Numbers which raise the Soul upon the Wing And to the Beatifick view Of Love's bright Face do bring Where Holy David singing to his Lyre Sits with the highest of the Heav'nly Quire Telling his Bliss in Verses ever new The thoughts of Joys so solid and severe Aim'd at in Verse by Mortal Poets here Make meaner Pleasures shrink away As the less Lights the Stars when Phoebus brings the Day FINIS 2 King. 2. 21. Iob. 38. 7.