Selected quad for the lemma: friend_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A60022
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Sololoqvies theologicall I am alone, and yet I am not alone, for the Father is with mee. By J. S. Gent.
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Short, J.
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1641
(1641)
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Wing S3527; ESTC R217587
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130,054
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259
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Thy Wise-knowing depth's unsounded be Since I cannot take Thee take take Thou mee Into Thy mercies Ocean be I receiven I know 't will beare me to my Haven Heaven That shall declare Thy righteousnesse that shall Thy Judgements manifest God's Judge of All Great Wonderfull Thy Workes Just true Thy Waies Shall be the ditty of Thy worthy Praise MY Head 's lost in my Heart sure I 'm in love Forget all yea m'own thoughts while thus above And now what 's this steales slily in my head My spirits thus in my heart concentered Don't I believe My heart my life wo'nt say it And for my thoughts what need I so much weigh it Thoughts oft confound themselves I love I live The God the Life that none but Christ can give Am crucified dead buried risen ascended Begin the Life that never shall he ended MY Head doth ake and yet my Head Doth feel no pain My Head is well and yet my Head Doth still complain Well I 'le goe lay it on my Husbands knee Where stroake it with His gentle hand shall Hee His Palm's a medecine Soveraign If He but touch The Feaver leaves if He refrain Yet I 'le not grutch Ther 's somewhat in 't He 's Wise Good ake's't still well 'Ts Thy mercy Lord 't shall never ake in Hell Ne'r ake in Hell then ever in Heaven Triumph o're griefe And sha'nt this all thy Sowers unleav'n With sweet reliefe But weigh them well they 'le overpoise them quite What 's Earth to Heaven Finite to Infinite And now my Faith what do'st where art What Yeeld to Sence Or hast forgot thy Heavenly Art How to dispence Joyes suiting every sorrow I wonder too Wer't in the Martyrs flames how Then thou 'dst doe Lord give me strength and Thou shalt take the praise Lord take my strength and That shall give Me praise NOw mouldring Earth why hang'st the head Hast not a Soul why why so dead Or shal't be more enslaved by Thy pains whose pleasures conquered lie No no 't is more ingenuous bred With courage as well as wisdome sped My spirit not mine 's egregious I 'M among the Exc'llent who so high That I not Aemulate And can I'ndure to see a Publican Thus match me He can blesse i' th' warme Sun but I 'd blesse i' th' sharpest storme I 'd pray I 'd praise my paines away And lull my griefe asleep a way Of sweet successe I 'd drown my swine This touchy grunting grumbling repine In my own waving passions Swage By reg'lar passions passions rage By this my heavenly indignation Appease this earth-fum'd perturbation Attempts to Shipwrack peace in vain That still 's afloat o' th' calmed Plaine Thy breath the windes did blow away Thy Word the boistrous billows stay Thou said'st I shu'd do greater things For Faith in 'ts power all things brings thou 'dst be commanded by 't I shu'd B' as sure of what so e're is good As if thou wert at their Commands Who humbly-bold wait watch thy hands But I wu'd doe what thou hast done I 'd make dim eyes play with the Sun Dead spirits from their graves wu'd bring And make deaf eares to heare them sing This dumb-grown tongue thy wonders tel I wu'd doe all things wondrous well I 'd th'lowest dullest flatnesse raise To th' highest tones of clearest praise I 'd fighting humours reconcile But if they 'le fight I 'd feast the while I 'd tune distempers to thy praise Turn cloudy nights to Sun-shine dayes Teach fainting hands to ring applaud And parched bones to spring with laud Smooth wrinkling gripings with a smile But if they wo'nt I 'd sing the while How ere it be yet Thou art good And better ditty I ne're wu'd Hold up declining Armes hold up Poure praises from an empty Cup For Grace is no more void then Nature Where th' creature wants ther 's the Creator Where that goes out there He comes in As well as where there goes out sin When then there 's place that 's empty o' thee Then not till then I 'le empty be Thy presence then when Thou sha't cease Then not till then I 'le cease to blesse Then never sha't Thou be unblest By him wh'hath thee a constant Guest Though in the dark a while we be Yet cause I see the Dark I see The world or want All 's one to me The while in either I ha'thee M'thinkes I can't but often pray That thou wu'dst take this world away For while 't is seen it bars my sight And I finde faith the sweet'st delight But all thy counsels have their beauty And all my comfort 's in my duty For thou hast taught my faith the way Through all to passe t' m'eternall stay Thee Thee O wu'dst thou take me now Thy childe that to thine armes doth bow Its straining soule loth to be held By th' world in'ts pleasing'st usage yeelds But paines O Thou that all things made And can'st revive them when they fade Thou that the Chaos fram'dst so faire And from foure discords match't so rare A set of healthy harmony Can'st when thou please make all agree And what 's my Musick but thy pleasure And but thy selfe what is my treasure Then let it goe and goe my health So will 's my musick so my wealth Be packing packing get thee gone No more dear friend He 's all or none Be packing packing get thee gone No more deare health Hee 's all or none Be packing packing get thee gone No more deare self He 's all or none Be packing packing get thee gone No more deare Nothing He 's all or none 'T is very well then I am ill If this be ill be I so still Till thou sha't see it fit to tell M'its very well that I am well 'T is very well friend I thee misse The misse o' th' world 's a world of Blisse Leave out thou sai'st this paltry Crotchet 'T will sound but ill and shall I botch it Into the Song sound it as 't will And so say I ha'th'better skill How too it grates my curious eares My tender Bowels wracks and teares M'observant head sets m'teeth on edge Against my self essay'd t' abridge My joy my stretching it besides Thy Will where all my joy resides And when all 's done so must I play The sweet the while lost by delay Strike off the sin strike as thou please Blot out th' offence I seek not ease And yet my ease because it is Thy pleasure t'keep me still in Blisse My ease my pleasure therefore is Or strike or not I 'm still in Blisse Nay this my ease my pleasure is Strike or forbeare the hand is His. Thankes thankes Think'st th'Angels now are still The just mens perfect spirits sill Not Heaven with their chanting voice Thou' rt o' the Choire my soul rejoyce Thou maist thou must praise with the gods The God makes musique with his rods He 's one Entire Pure Perfect Happinesse No shaddo ' o' change in him thou art e're Blest