Selected quad for the lemma: world_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
world_n	die_v	sin_n	sin_v	2,346	5	9.2147	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A56853	Fons lachrymarum, or, A fountain of tears from whence doth flow Englands complaint, Jeremiah's lamentations paraphras'd, with divine meditations, and an elegy upon that son of valor Sir Charles Lucas / written by John Quarles.	Quarles, John, 1624-1665.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650.	1649 (1649)	Wing Q128; ESTC R235077	54,591	166

whole a broken and a contrite heart Tell him th' art heavy loaden and opprest And crav'st th' enjoyment of a happy rest What though thy querelous desires at first Seem to be frivolous and slightly nurst Detract not thou but be progressive still And not too retrograte but let thy will Attend his pleasure is 't not fit that he Should be attended that attended thee What if he still denies thou art but paid With that dull Coin which thine own sins have made Hath he not waited at the brazen walls Of thy regardless brest us'd many calls Nay many thousands and hath dayly knock'd And found the nurs'ry of thy ears still lock'd And bar'd against him 'T was enough to turn Patience into an Extasie and burn The strongest Resolution and incite Vengeance to make an everlasting night Oh think on this blest Soul and be content Good actions seldom want a goood event Another DISCOVRSE Between the SOVL and FAITH So. I 'M full and yet seem empty I have store Of Earths delectables and yet I 'm poor I have what e're my rav'nous thoughts require And yet I want in having my desire I eat delicious food drink sparkling wine Enjoy my self and yet I am not mine I am the worlds delight I am the child Of pregnant fortune yet I am revil'd And what external happiness can be Thought worth imbracement is imbrac'd by me Since all these Joys are heap'd upon my back I fain would know what 't is I seem to lack Fa. Thy wants are soon exprest dull Soul I know Who wants my helpful hand wants power to go Oh what an easie matter t is to find A stuffd-up body and an empty mind Grief rests within the centre of that brest That knows not what is worst nor what is best But still looks downwards on this dunghil earth That alienates the Soul and breeds a dearth Within that sacred Essence that divine And glorious Monarchy Who can define Th' inchanting Raptures and th' emperious Joys Of sublimated Heav'n that toyls for toys Thou sayst th' art full yet empty thou hast store Of Earths delectables and yet art poor 'T is true th' art full but tell me whence proceeds That fulness say what charitable deeds Hast thou perform'd oh learn frail Soul t' express Too great a fulness breeds an emptiness Experience tells thee there is nothing worse Then slighted mercy turn'd into a curse Thou say'st th' enjoyst what e'r thy mind requires And yet thou wantst in having thy desires Thou eat'st thou drinkst and hast the worlds consent To be her darling yet art not content 'T is true he wants whose fulness wants desire To want that fulness which his wants require What though the world accumulates increase There 's no content when Heav'n denies a Peace If Heav'ns blest mouth proclaim'd no peace should be So. Vnto the wicked what 's become of me Who always liv'd to sin and sin'd to dye Oh miserable miserable I Fa. 'T is true GOD will not suffer Peace t' arise Unto the wicked yet that GOD denies A Sinners death and by a free consent Promis'd a pardon with this word Repen● 'T is a persisting Sinner must expect A sad reward for a perform'd neglect So. Then what must I expect have I not run Even from the rising to the setting Sun In paths of negligence and still persisted And rather back'd a sinner then resisted The power of sin Oh how can I obtain Or thoughts or hopes to be reclaim'd again Fa. The mouth of Heav'n did never yet divide His language thus My Soul shall not abide A penitent offendor no his breath Speaks better things then the lamented death Of those who though they have in former times Been permanent in their unbosom'd crimes Yet when the sense of their transgression brings Abundant sorrow then Jehovah sings Rare strains of mercy to their Souls and pours His endless mercy down in liberal showres So. And is our GOD so merciful so just To lep'rous Souls and shall not my Soul trust In such a never-failing GOD Shall I Retort a no when he proclaims an I Oh no I le take what he shall give and then When Heav'n proclaims my tongue shall say Amen For 't is thy Christ thy Love thy Son must ease us Fa. Follow me Soul I le lead thee to thy Jesus Penetrant Suspiria Coelum ARe sighs so prevalent that they can be Admitted to the ears of Majestie Is Heav'n so weak or sighs so strong that they Can make an on-set and enforce their way Unto the ears of GOD Can sighs perswade That Lamb to mercy that our sins betray'd Can roaring Lions meet and can they part Without a combate Can a lep'rous heart Meet God and think t' out-brave him in his Sion Our sins are Lions yet our God's a Lion And what 's a sigh 't is but a blast of wind Blown from the center of a stormy mind And can the ayr of one poor sigh aspire So high as Heaven Ah sighs can never tire In such a progress though they be but ayr Yet they condense within the sacred ear Of nursing Majesty who hears the sound Of wel-spent groans and takes them at the bound Sighs are like morning Larks sometimes they fly And chatter praises to the blushing skie Then wearied with their flights dart down amain Longing to repossess the earth again So sighs the Souls best oratory fly To the Interpreter of groans who 'le not deny To hear the hearts embassage but delights To see souls wingd with sighs to take such flights But when our hearts are loaded with the cares Of this vile earth and sigh themselves to tears Oh then he stops his ears and makes them know Their sighs are earthly and they fly too low Nor can they reach the suburbs of his ear Unless they mount into a higher sphere Then let thy well-directed sighs my Soul Mount upwards still that there they may condole Thy ev'ning sorrow and thy morning grief Then they 'l like Doves return and bring reli●f Unto thy floating heart and thou shalt find The operations of a sigh thy mind Shall purge it self thrice happy 's thy condition Sighs are good physick when Heav'n is Physician Roganti dabitur WHo would not be a Begger that may crave Upon such easie terms but ask and have Here 's swelling bounty and sure this must be No humane but a divine charitie Here well-instructed Poverty may live He that gives power to ask hath power to give The greatest gift that ever yet was known Was freely given being ask'd by none And he that gave 't hath many gifts in store Many give once because they 'l give no more But he who gave that gift will not refrain If wisely ask'd to give us gifts again And if a heart-recording gift we make Of this his giving teaches us to take Be it ordain'd that begging be an art Heav'n loves a giving hand a begging heart But let us rest a little here 's the task Heav'n knows

Transitory toys What 's Mirth what 's Pleasure Melancholy joys Honor is Envy's object Riches they Are but the subjects of a frowning day Beauty 's a slave to Time and fond delight Teaches the morning how to fool the night Were I a Midus could my towers of wealth Protect my person or preserve my health Were I a Cesar could wy honors save My crazy carkass from the gaping grave Were I as fair as Venus could my beauty Acquit me from that necessary duty I owe to change If so I 'd honor pleasure And hug my honor and rejoyce in treasure If I had riches they might make me fly Upon the wings of prodigality If I had honor that might make me dance Ambition a Corranto and advance My self above my self If beauty were At my command then might I chance t' insnare The wantons of the world nay and intice Vertue to change it self into a vice Now tell me Earth where are those smooth delights Thou often boasts of are thy golden nights Chang'd into leaden days Oh tell me then Why dost thou so befool the sons of men Who following thee consume their precious time And are at last rewarded with a crime Content that well-advised word imports A Crown of Happiness All joy resorts Into the palace of a blest content And there resides Content is golden ey'd and can behold A dunghill with as much respect as gold Content's a Jewel but here lies the art Which way to hang it in a restless heart Much have I heard of that rich stone which all Are pleas'd t' entitle Philosophical And Fame reports that many wits have try'd T' obtain it and before obtain'd it dy'd And lost their eager hopes nay what is worse Left a rich study but a poorer purse And to conclude experience made it known Had they not lost Content they 'd found the Stone Pax una triumpha est PEace is the life of Happiness and Strife A living Death unto a dying Life Envy 's the child of Srife and pregnant Peace Is an indulgent Mother whose encrease Adorns the Earth Peace is a Turtle Dove Compos'd of nothing but the purest Love What 's martial triumph but a little blaze Which now aspires and by and by decays What triumph is 't to see the shivered bones Of breathless men and hear th' impetuous groans Of those whose feeble tongues invite a death To dispossess them of their loathed breath Sad are th' effects of War and yet this age Esteems not Peace but lets Contention rage Into a madness Oh unhappy State Where Strife 's desir'd too soon Peace too late Soul-calming Peace and heart-corroding Strife Live here like Factors both for death and life It is a sacred Jubilee to hear Soft-breathing Peace chanting in every ear Rare strains of Heav'n-bred raptures which express Full Diapasons of our happiness But 't is a dying life to see that bliss Should by a hellish metamorphosis Be thus transhap'd to Strife There 's no prevention Abused Peace perverts into contention And can the Diamond of Amity If once dissevered in pieces be Compos'd again Experience makes us find 'T is quickly broken but not quickly joyn'd Oh Peace Can we expect thy blest return If we whose flaming envies dayly burn Thy name within the Aetna's of our brests Do make thee subject to our vile detests 'T is often seen Cantharides do dwell Upon the fairest Rose whose pleasing smell Delights the sense It may be truly said Envy that base Cantharides hath laid It self upon the Roses of our Peace And rob'd us of a liberal encrease Have not our eyes in former times beheld The fruits of Peace have not our Souls been fil'd With heav'nly pleasures and our grasping hands Gather'd the plenty of our peaceful Lands Did not the painful husbandman bestow His labors with a cheerful brow and sow The often-furrowed earth But now ah now Intruding Mars molests the active plough And have not we by sad experience found Contentious Mars plows bodies not ground O miserable tillage This will bring A bloody Harvest and as bad a Spring See smiling Bacchus with his brim-fill'd bowls Would tempt us to carouze away our Souls Mars with a palled look proclaims an end To all our pastimes Sorrow knows no friend Mars thunders Bacchus smiles and Cupid cries Envy survives Truth pines and Friendship dies Peace flies her Country and with discontent Bemoans our sorrows and her banishment And thus we tumble in our own confusion A bad beginning findes a bad conclusion A DISCOURSE between the SOVL and WORLD Wo. HOw now sad Soul from whence proceeds those clouds Which still eclipse my fancy thus shrouds Thy splendent glory what contentious Fate Hath bred disturbance in thy quiet State Tell me come tell me that my studious care May be imploy'd to serve thee Why or where Art thou opprest Come never fear to tell Thy grief to me thou know'st I love thee well So. Oh I am sick canst thou be my Physician Wo. I can sick Soul Come tell me thy condition So. Draw nearer then for ah my spirits fail I 'm sick because I know not what I ail Wo. If thou art sick and canst not find thy grief How canst thou be a suitor to relief So. Were it a single sorrow that opprest My wearied mind 't were easily exprest But when pluralities shall circumvent A troubled mind how can that mind have vent Wo. Come leave these vain exordiums let my ear Be heir to thy discourse I long to hear Conceal not that which if reveal'd may bring A remedy Come tell me what 's the thing That thus corrodes thy brest 't is I alone Must give thy heart refreshment or else none So. Alas fond World how justly may I stile Thy help a hinderance thy treasures vile What answer shall I now retort that may Expresly satisfie I cannot say What I desire for when I strive to speak My passion grows too strong my tongue too weak My numerous pains infatuate my wit Wo. Pish this is but a melancholly fit Clear up thy clouded thoughts such fits as these Are incident to all learn to appease Thy instigating passion and advise With me I 'le make thee well I 'le make thee wise My bounteous treasure shall increase thy store With great abundance Come let 's have no more Of these thy petulant discourses be Prescrib'd by none dear Soul except by me I 'le cure thy pain Sou Fond World forbear To urge my resolution or insnare My yeelding spirits let thy language be Reserv'd for them that will be fool'd by thee Thy elevating joys which did before Inrich my vacant senses make them poor And now I find the greatest plague that can Concomitate poor miserable man Is to be happy Wor That 's a paradox Is happiness a crime So. Mistake me not rash fool for my pretence Is good if not corrupted by the sence You take it in For tell me what canst thou Insinuating wretch vouchsafe t' allow That will