Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
heaven_n	body_n	see_v	soul_n	8,246	5	5.1684	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A37242	A work for none but angels & men. That is to be able to look into, and to know our selves. Or a book shewing what the soule is, subsisting and having its operations without the body; its more th[e]n a perfection or reflection of the sense, or teperature of humours: how she exercises her powers of vegetative or quickening power of the senses. Of the imaginations or common sense, the phantasie, sensative memory, passions motion of life, local motion, and intellectual powers of the soul. Of the wit, understanding, reason, opinion, judgement, power of will, and the relations betwixt wit & wil. Of the intellectual memory, that the soule is immortall, and cannot dye, cannot be destroyed, her cause ceaseth not, violence nor time cannot destroy her; and all objections answered to the contrary.; Nosce teipsum. Selections	Davies, John, Sir, 1569-1626.	1653 (1653)	Wing D409; ESTC R207134	24,057	52

and water living Soules should breed But that Mans Soule whom he would make their king Should from himselfe immediatly proceed And when he took the woman from mans side Doubtlesse himselfe in spir'd her Soule alone For 't is not sayd he did mans Soul divide But took flesh of his flesh bone of his bone Lastly God being made Man for Mans owne sake And being like Man in all except in sin His Body from the Virgins womb did take But all agree God from'd his Soule within Then is the Soule from God so Pagans say Which saw by natures light her heavenly kind Naming her kin to God and Gods bright ray A Citizen of heaven to earth consin'd And then the Soule being first from nothing brought When Gods grace failes her doth to nothing fall And this declining Pronesse unto nought Is even that sin that we are born withall Yet not alone the first good qualities Which in the first Soule were deprived are But in their place the contrary do rise And reall spots of sin her beauty marre Nor is it strange that Adams ill desert Should be transfer'd unto his guilty race When Christ his grace and justice doth impart To men unjust and such as have no grace Lastly the Soule were better so to be Borne slave to sin then not to be at all Since if she do beleeve one sets her free That makes her mount the higher from her fall Yet this the curious wits will not content They yet will know since God foresaw this ill Why his high providence did not prevent The declination of the first mans will If by his word he had the current stayd Of Adams will which was by nature free It had been one as if his word had sayd I will henceforth that man no man shall be For what is man without a moving mind Which hath a judging wit and choosing will Now if Gods power should her election bind Her motions then would cease and stand all still And why did God in man this Soule infuse But that he should his maker know and love Now if love be compel'd and cannot chuse How can it gratefull or thank-worthy prove Love must free-hearted be and voluntary And not enchaunted or by fate constrained Not like that love which did Ulysses carry To Circes Isle with mighty charmes enchained Besides were we unchangeable in will And of a wit that nothing doth misdeem Equall to God whose wisedome shineth still And never erres we might our selves esteem So that if man would be unvariable He must be God or like a Rock or Tree For even the perfect Angels were not stable But had a fall more desperate then we Then let us praise that Power which makes us be Men as we are and rest contented so And knowing mans fall was curiositie Admire Gods counsels which we cannot know And let us know that God the marker is Of all the Soules in all the men that be Yet their Corruption is no fault of his But the first Mans that broke Gods first decree This substance and this spirit ofGods owne making Is in the Body plac't and planted here That both of God and of the world partaking Of all that is man might the image beare God first made Angels bodilesse pure minds Then other things which mindlesse Bodies be Last he made man th' Horizon ' twixtboth kinds In whom we do the worlds abridgement see Besides this world below did need one wight Which might thereof distinguish every part Make use thertof and take therein delight And order things with industry and Art Which also God might in his works admire And here beneath yield him both prayer and praise As there above the holy Angels Quire Doth spread his glory with spirituall layes When Hearing Seeing Tasting Smelling's past Feeling as long as life remaines doth last Mayde reach my Lute I am not well indeede O pitty-mee my Bird hath made mee bleede Lastly the bruite unreasonable wights Did want a visible King on them to raigne And God himselfe thus to the world unites That so the world might endlesse blisse obtaine But how shall we this union well expresse Nought ties the Soule her subtilty is such She moves the Body which she doth possesse Yet no part toucheth but by vertues touch Then dwels she not therein as in a tent Nor as a Pilot in his ship doth sit Nor as a Spider in her web is pent Nor as the wax retains the print in it Nor as a vessel water doth containe Nor as one liquor in another shed Nor as the heat doth in the fire remaine Nor as a voyce throughout the aire is spread But as a faire and cheerfull morning light Doth here and there her silver beames impart And in an instant doth her selfe unite To the transparent Aire in all and part Still resting whole when blowes the Aire divide Abiding pure when th' Aire is most corrupted Throughout the Aire her beams dispersing wide And when the aire is tost not interrupted So doth the piercing Soule the Body fill Being all in all and all in part diffus'd Indivisible uncorrnptible still Not forc't encountred troubled or confus'd And as the Sun above the light doth bring Though we behold it in the aire below So from th' eternall light the Soule doth spring Though in the Body she her powres do show But as the worlds Sun doth effects beget Diverse in diverse places every day Here Autumnes temperature there Summers heat Here flowry Spring-tide and there Winter-gray Here even there morn here noon there day there night Melts wax dries clay makes flours some quick some dead Makes the More black th' Ethiopian white Th' American tawny and th' East Indian red So in our little world this Soule of ours Being onely one and to one Body tyed Doth use on diverse objects diverse powers And so are her effects diversified Her quickning power in every living part Doth as a Nurse or as a Mother serve And doth employ her oeconomick Art And busie care her houshold to preserve Here she attracts and there she doth retaine There she decocts and doth the food prepare There she distributes it to every vaine There she expels what she may fitly spare This power to Martha may compared be Which busie was the houshold things to do Or to a Dryas living in a Tree For even to Trees this power is proper too And though the Soule may not this power extend Out of the Body but still use it there She hath a power which she abroad doth send Which viewes and searcheth all things every where This power is Sense which from abroad doth bring The colour tast and touch and sent and found The quantity and shape of every thing Within th' earths Center or heavens Circle found This power in parts made fit fit objects takes Yet not the things but formes of things receives As when a Seale in Wax impression makes The print therein but not it selfe it leaves And though

place But she all place within her selfe confines All Bodies have their measure and their space But who can draw the Soules dimensive lines No Body can at once two formes admit Except the one the other do deface But in the Soule ten thousand formes do sit And none intrudes into her neighbours place All Bodies are with other Bodies fild But she receives both heaven and earth together Nor are their formes by rash incounter spild For there they stand and neither toncheth either MEMORIE A com̄on June all com̄ers to reteyne A Siue where good run̄e out bad remayne A Burrow with a thousand vermine hydes A Den where nothinge that is good abides Nor can her wide Embracements filled bee For they'that most and greatest things embrace Enlarge thereby their minds Capacitie As streames enlarg'd enlarge the Channels space All things receiv'd do such proportion take As those things have wherein they are receiv'd So little glasses little faces make And narrow webs on narrow frames be weav'd Then what vast Body must we make the mind Wherein are men beasts trees towns seas and lands And yet each thing a proper place doth find And each thing in the true proportion stands Doubtlesse this could not be but that she turnes Bodies to spirits by sublimation strange As fire converts to fire the things it burnes As we our meats into our nature change From their grosse matter she abstracts the formes And drawes a kind of Quintessence from things Which to her proper nature she transformes To beare them light on her celestiall wings This doth she when from things particular She doth abstract the universall kinds Which bodilesse and immateriall are And can be lodg'd but onely in our minds And thus from diverse accidents and acts Which doe within her observation fall She goddestes and powers divine abstracts As nature fortune and the vertues all Againe how can she severall Bodies know If in her selfe a Bodies forme she bear How can a Mirror sundry faces show If from all shapes and formes it be not clear Nor could we by our eyes all colours learn Except our eyes were of all colours voyd Nor sundry tasts can any tongue discerne Which is with grosse and bitter humours cloyd Nor may a man of passions judge aright Except his mind be from all passions free Nor can a Judge his office well acquite If he possest of either party be If lastly this quick powre a Body were Were it as swift as is the wind or fire Whose Atomies do th'one downe sidewayes beare And make the other in Pyramids aspire Her nimble Body yet in time must move And not in instants through all places slide But she is nigh and far beneath above In point of time which thought can not divide She 's sent as soon to China as to Spaine And thence returnes as soon as she is sent She measures with one time and with one paine An ell of Silk and heavens wide-spreading Tent As then the Soule a substance hath alone Besides the Body in which she is confin'd So hath she not a Body of her owne But is a spirit and immateriall mind Since Body and Soule have such diversities Well might we muse how first their match began But that we learn that he that spread the skies And fixt the earth first form'd the Soule in man 'T is true Prometheus first made man of earth And shed in him a beam of heavenly fire Now in their mothers wombs before their birth Doth in all sons of men their Souls inspire And as Minerva is in Fables said From Jove without a mother to proceed So our true Jove without a mothers aid Doth daily millions of Minerva's breed Then neither from eternity before Nor from the time when times first point begun Made he all Souls which now he keeps in store Some in the Moon and others in the Sun Nor in a secret Cloister doth he keep These virgin spirits untill their marriage-day Nor locks them up in Chambers where they sleep Till they awake within these beds of Clay Nor did he first a certaine number make Infusing part in beasts and part in men And as unwilling farther paines to take Would make no more then those he framed then So that the widow Soule her Body dying Unto the next born Body married was And so by often changing and supplying Mens souls to beasts and beasts to men did passe These thoughts are fond for since the Bodies borne Be more in number far then those that die Thousands must be abortive and forlorne Ere others deaths to them their souls supply But as Gods handmaid nature doth create Bodies in time distinct and order due So God gives soules the like successive date Which himselfe makes in bodies formed new Which himselfe makes of no materiall thing For unto Angels he no power hath given Either to forme the shape or stuffe to bring From aire or fire or substance of the Heaven Nor he in this doth Natures service use For though from Bodies she can Bodies bring Yet could she never Soules from Soules traduce As fire from fire or light from light doth spring But many subtill wits have justifi'd That Souls from Souls spiritually may spring Which if the nature of the Soul be try'd Will even in nature prove as grosse a thing For all things made are either made of nought Or made of stuffe that ready made doth stand Of nought no creature ever formed ought For that is proper to th' Almighties hand If then the Soule another Soule do make Because her power is kept within a bound She must some former stufle or matter take But in the Soule there is no matter found Then if her heavenly Forme do not agree With any matter which the world containes Then she of nothing must created be And to create to God alone pertaines Againe if Soules doe other Soules beget 'T is by themselves or by the Bodies power If by themselves what doth their working let But they might Soules engender every houre If by the Body how can wit and will Joyne with the Body onely in this act Since when they do their other works fulfil They from the Body do themselves abstract Againe if Soules of Soules begotten were Into each other they should change and move And change and motion still corruption beare How shall we then the Soule immortall prove If lastly Soules did generation use Then should they spread incorruptible seed What then becomes of that which they doe loose When th' acts of generation doe not speed And though the Soule could cast spirituall seed Yet would she not because she never dies For mortall things desire their like to breed That so they may their kind immortalize Therefore the Angels sons of God are nam'd And marry not nor are in marriage given Their spirits and ours are of one substance fram'd And have one Father even the Lord of Heaven Who would at first that in each other thing The earth

And when wit is resolv'd will lends her power To execute what is advisd by wit WILL Free to all ill till freed to none but ill Now this I will anon the same I ●ill Appetite ere while ere while Reason may Nere good but when Gods Sperit beares ●●●ay Wit is the minds chief Judge which doth Comptroul Of fancies Court the judgements false and vaine Will holds the Royall Scepter in the Soule And on the passions of the heart doth raigne Will is as Free as any Emperour Nought can restraine her gentle liberty No Tyrant nor no Torment hath the power To make us will when we unwilling be To these high powers a Store-house doth pertaine Where they all Arts and generall Reasons lay Which in the Soule even after death remaine And no Lethoean flood can wash away This is the Soule and those her Vertues be Which though they have their sundry proper ends And one exceeds another in degree Yet each on other mutually depends Our Wit is given Almighty God to know Our Will is given to love him being knowne But God could not be known to us below But by his works which through the sense are shown And as the Wit doth reap the fruits of Sense So doth the quickning power the Senses feed Thus while they do their sundry gifts dispence The best the service of the least doth need Even so the King his Magistrates do serve Yet Commons feed both Magistrate and King The Commons peace the Magistrates preserve By borrowed power which from the Pr. doth spring The quickning power would be and so would rest The Sense would not be onely but be well But Wits ambition longeth to be best For it desires in endlesse blisse to dwell And these three powers three sorts of men do make For some like plants their veins do only fill And some like beasts their senses pleasure take And some like Angels do contemplate still Therefore the Fables turn'd some men to Flowers And others did with brutish formes invest And did of others make celestiall powers Like Angels which still travell yet still rest Yet these three powres are not three Soules but one As one and two are both contain'd in three Three being one number by it selfe alone A shadow of the blessed Trinitie O what is man greater maker of mankind That thou to him so great respect dost bear That thou adornst him with so bright a mind Mak'st him a King and even an Angels peer O what a lively life what heavenly power What spreading vertue what a sparkling fire How great how plentifull how rich a dowre Do'st thou within this dying flesh inspire Thou leav'st thy print in other works of thine But thy whole image thou in man hast writ There cannot be a creature more divine Except like thee it should be infinit But it exceeds mans thought to think how high God hath raisd man since God a man became The Angels do admire this mystery And are astonisht when they view the same Nor hath he given these blessings for a day Nor made them on the bodies life depend The Soule though made in time survives for aye And though it hath beginning sees no end Her onely end is never ending blisse Which is th' eternall face of God to see Who last of ends and first of causes is And to do this she must eternall be How senslesse then and dead a Soule hath he Which thinks his Soule doth with his body dye Or thinks not so but so would have it be That he might sin with more security For though these light and vicious persons say Our Soule is but a smoak or airy blast Which during life doth in our nostrils play And when we die doth turn to wind at last Although they say come let us eat and drink Our life is but a spark which quickly dyes Though thus they say they know not what to think But in their minds ten thousand doubts arise Therefore no hereticks desire to spread Their light opinions like these Epicures For so their staggering thoughts are comforted And other mens assent their doubt assures Yet though these men against their conscience strive There are some sparkles in their flinty breasts Which cannot be extinct but still revive That though they would they cannot quite be beasts But who so makes a mirror of his mind And doth with patience view himselfe therein His Soules eternity shall clearly find Though th' other beauties be defac't with sin First in mans mind we find an appetite To learne and know the truth of every thing Which is connaturall and borne with it And from the Essence of the Soule doth spring With this desire she hath a native might To find out every truth if she had time Th' innumerable effects to sort aright And by degrees from cause to cause to clime But since our life so fast away doth slide As doth a hungry Eagle through the wind Or as a Ship transported with the tide Which in their passage leave no print behind Of which swift little time so much we spend While some few things we through the sense do strain That our short race of life is at an end Ere we the principles of skil attain Or God which to vain ends hath nothing done In vain this appetite and power hath given Or else our knowledge which is here begun Hereafter must be perfected in heaven God never gave a power to one whole kind But most part of that kind did use the same Most eyes have perfect sight though some be blind Most legs can nimbly run though some be lame But in this life no Soule the truth can know So perfectly as it hath power to do If then perfection be not found below An higher place must make her mount thereto Againe how can she but immortall be When with the motions of both will and wit She still aspireth to eternity And never rests till she attain to it Water in Conduit pipes can rise no higher Then the wel-head from whence it first doth spring Then since to eternall God she doth aspire She cannot be but an eternall thing All moving things to other things do move Of the same kind which shewes their nature such So earth fals down and fire doth mount above Till both their proper Elements do touch And as the moysture which the thirsty earth Sucks from the sea to fill her empty veins From out her womb at last doth take a birth And runs a Nymph along the grassie plaines Long doth she stay as loath to leave the land From whose soft side she first did issue make She tasts all places turnes to every hand Her flowry banks unwilling to forsake Yet nature so her streams doth lead and carry As that her course doth make no finall stay Till she her selfe unto the Ocean marry Within whose watry bosome first she lay Even so the Soule which in this earthly mould The Spirit of God doth secretly infuse

desire proceeds Which all men have surviving fame to gaine By Tombes by Books by memorable Deeds For she that this desires doth still remaine Hence lastly springs Care of Posterities For things their kind would everlasting make Hence is it that old men do plant young Trees The fruit whereof another age shall take If we these Rules unto our selves apply And view them by reflection of the mind All these true notes of immortality In our Hearts Tables we shall written find And though some impious wits do questions move And doubt if Soules immortall be or no That doubt their immortality doth prove Because they seem immortal things to know For he which Reasons on both parts doth bring Doth some things mortall some immortall call Now if himselfe were but a mortall thing He could not judge immortall things at all For when we judge our minds we mirrours make And as those glasses which material be Formes of materiall things do onely take For thoughts or minds in them we cannot see So when we God and Angles do conceive And think of truth which is eternal to Then do our minds immortal forms receive Which if they mortall were they could not do And as if Beasts conceiv'd what Reason were And that conception should distinctly show They should the name of reasonable bear For without Reason none could Reason know So when the Soule mounts with so high a wing As of eternal things she doubts can move She proofs of her eternity doth bring Even when she strives the contrary to prove For even the thought of Immortality Being an act done without the Bodies aid Shewes that her selfe alone could move and be Although the body in the grave were laid And if her selfe she can so lively move And never need a forraigne help to take Then must her motion everlasting prove Because her selfe she never can forsake But though corruption cannot touch the mind By any cause that from it selfe may spring Some outward cause fate hath perhaps design'd Which to the Soule may utter quenching bring Perhaps her cause may cease and she may die God is her cause his word her maker was Which shall stand fixt for all eternity When heaven and earth shall like a shadow passe Perhaps some thing repugnant to her kind By strong Antipathy the Soule may kill But what can be contrary to the mind Which holds all contraries in concord still She lodgeth heat and cold and moist and dry And life and death and peace and war together Ten thousand fighting things in her do lye Yet neither troubleth or disturbeth either Perhaps for want of food the Soule may pine But that were strange since all things bad and good Since all Gods creatures mortall and divine Since God himselfe is her eternall food Bodies are fed with things of mortal kind And so are subject to mortality But truth which is eternal feeds the mind The tree of life which will not let her dye Yet violence perhaps the Soul destroyes As lightning or the Sun-beams dim the sight Or as a thunder-clap or Cannons noyse The power of hearing doth astonish quite But high perfection to the Soule it brings T' encounter things most excellent and high For when she viewes the best and greatest things They do not hurt but rather clear her eye But lastly Time perhaps at last hath power To spend her lively powers and quench her light But old God Saturne which doth all devour Doth cherish her and still augment her might Heaven waxeth old and all the Spheares above Shall one day faint and their swift motion stay And Time it selfe in time shall cease to move Onely the Soule survives and lives for aye Our Bodies every footstep that they make March towards death untill at last they dye Whether we work or play or sleep or wake Our life doth passe and with times wings doth flye But to the Soule Time doth perfection give And adds fresh lustre to her beauty still And makes her in eternal youth to live Like her which Nectar to the God doth full The more she lives the more she feeds on truth The more she feeds her strength doth more increase And what is strength but an effect of youth Which if time nurse how can it ever cease But now these Epicures begin to smile And say my doctrine is more safe then true And that I fondly do my selfe beguile While these receiv'd opinions I ensue For what say they doth not the Soule wax old How comes it then that aged men do dote And that their braines grow sottish dull and cold Which were in youth the onely spirits of note What are not Soules within themselves corrupted How can there Idiots then by Nature be How is it that some wits are interrupted That now they dazled are now clearly see These Questions make a subtile Argument To such as think both Sense and Reason one To whom nor agent from the instrument Nor power of working from the work is knowne For if that region of the tender braine Wherein th' inward sense of phantasie should sit And th' outward senses gatherings should retaine By nature or by chance become unfit Either at first uncapable it is And so few things or none at all receives Or mar'd by accident which haps amisse And so amisse it every thing perceives Then as a cunning Prince that useth Spies If they returne no newes doth nothing know But if they make advertizement of Lyes The Princes Counsel all awry do go Even so the Soule to such a Body knit Whose inward senses undisposed be And to receive the formes of things unfit Where nothing is brought in can nothing see But if a Phrensie do possesse the braine It so disturbs and blots the formes of things As phantasie proves altogether vaine And to the wit no true relation brings Then doth the wit admitting all for true Build fond conclusions on those idle grounds Then doth it flie the good and ill pursue Beleeving all that this false Spie propounds But purge the humours and the rage appease Which this distemper in the fancy wrought Then will the wit which never had disease Discourse and judge discreetly as it ought Then these defects in Senses Organs be Not in the Soule or in her working might She cannot loose her perfect power to see Though mists clouds do choke her window light The Soule in all hath one Intelligence Though too much moisture in an Infants braine And too much drinesse in an old mans sense Cannot the prints of outward things retaine Then doth the Soule want work and idle sit And this we childishnesse and dotage call Yet hath she then a quick and active wit If she had stuffe and tools to work withall As a good Harper stricken far in years Into whose cunning hands the Gout doth fall All his old Crotchets in his braine he bears But on his Harp playes ill or not at all Then dotage is no

weaknesse of the mind But of the Sense for if the mind did wast In all old men we should this wasting find When they some certaine terme of years had past But most of them even to their dying hour Retaine a mind more lively quick and strong And better use their understanding power Then when their brains were warm and limbs were young Yet say these men if all her Organs dye Then hath the Soule no power her powers to use So in a sort her powers extinct do lye When unto act she cannot them reduce And if her powers be dead then what is she For since from every thing some powers do spring And from those powers some acts proceeding be Then kill both power and act and kill the thing Doubtles the bodies death when once it dies The instruments of sense and life doth kill So that she cannot use those faculties Although their root restin her substance still But as the body living wit and will Can judge and chuse without the bodies aid Though on such objects they are working still As through the bodies Organs are conveyd So when the body serves her turne no more And all her Senses are extinct and gone She can discourse of what she learn'd before In heavenly contemplations all alone And though the Instruments by which we live And view the world the bodies death to kill Yet with the body they shall all revive And all their wonted offices fulfill But how till then shall she her selfe imploy Her spies are dead which brought home news before What she hath got and keeps she may enjoy But she hath means to understand no more Then what do those poor Soules which nothing get Or what do those which get and cannot keep Like Buckets bottomlesse which all out let Those Soules for want of exercise must sleep See how mans Soule against it selfe doth strive Why should we not have other means to know As children while within the womb they live Feed by the navil here they feed not so These children if they had some use of sense And should by chance their mothers talking heare That in short time they shall come forth from thence Would fear their birth more then our death we feare They would cry out if we this place shall leave Then shall we break our tender navil strings How shall we then our nourishment receive Since our sweet food no other conduit brings And if a man should to these babes reply That into this faire world they shal be brought Where they shal see the earth the sea the sky The glorious Sun and all that God hath wrought That there ten thousand dainties they shal meet Which by their mouths they shal with pleasure take Which shal be cordial too aswel as sweet And of their little limbs tall bodies make This would they think a fable even as we Do think the story of the golden age Or as some sensual spirits amongst us be Which hold the world to come a faigned stage Yet shall these infants after find all true Though then thereof they nothing could conceive Assoon as they are borne the world they view And with their mouths the Nurses milk receive So when the Soule is borne for death is nought But the Soules birth and so we should it call Ten thousand things she sees beyond her thought And in an unknown manner knowes them all Then doth she see by Spectacles no more She hears not by report of double spies Her selfe in instants doth all things explore For each thing present and before her lyes But still this Crew with Questions me pursues If Soules deceasd say they still living be Why do they not return to bring us newes Of that strange world where they such wonders see The Soule hath here on earth no more to do Then we have businesse in our mothers womb What child doth covet to returne thereto Although all children first from thence do come And doubtlesse such a Soule as up doth mount And doth appear before her Makers face Holds this vile world in such a base account As she looks down and scorns this wretched place But such as are detruded downe to Hell Either for shame they still themselves retire Or tyed in chaines they in close Prison dwell And cannot come although they much desire Well well say these vaine spirits though vain it is To think our Soules to heaven or hel do go Politick men have thought it not amisse To spread this lye to make men vertuous so Do you then think this moral vertue good I think you do even for your private gain For Common-wealths by vertue ever stood And common good the private doth contain Oh how can that be false which every tongue Of every mortal man affirmes for true Which truth hath in all ages been so strong As load-stone like all hearts it ever drew For not the Christian or the Jew alone The Persian or the Turk acknowledge this This mystery to the wild Indian knowne And to the Cannibal and Tartar is None that acknowledge God or providence Their Soules eternity did ever doubt For all Religion takes her root from hence Which no poor naked Nation lives without If death do quench us quite we have great Wrong Since for our service all things else were wrought That Dawes Trees and Rocks should last so long When we must in an instant passe to nought But blest be that great power that hath us blest With longer life then heaven or earth can have Which hath enfusd into one mortal brest Immortal powers not subject to the grave For though the Soule do seem her grave to bear And in this world is almost buried quick We have no cause the bodies death to fear For when the shel is broke ou● comes a Chick For as the Soules Essential powers are three The quickning power the power of Sense and Reason Three kinds of life to her designed be Which perfect these three powers in their due season The fi●st life in the mothers womb is spent Where she her nursing power doth onely use Where when she finds defects of nourishment Sh'expels her body and this world she viewes This we call Birth but if the Child could speake He Death would call it and of nature plaine Tha she would thrust him out naked and weak And in h●s passage pinch him with such paine Yet out he comes and in this world is plac't Where all his Senses in perfection be Where he finds flowers to smel and truits to tast And sounds to hear and sundry formes to see When he hath past some time upon this stage His Reason then a little seems to wake Which though she spring when sense doth fade with age Yet can she here no perfect practise make Then doth th' aspiring Soule the body leave Which we call death but were it known to all What life our Soules do by this death receive Men would