The devout hart or Royal throne of the pacifical Salomon. Composed by F. St. Luzuic S.I. Translated out of Latin into English. Enlarged with incentiue by F. St. Binet of the same S. and now enriched with hymnes by a new hand

About this Item

Title
The devout hart or Royal throne of the pacifical Salomon. Composed by F. St. Luzuic S.I. Translated out of Latin into English. Enlarged with incentiue by F. St. Binet of the same S. and now enriched with hymnes by a new hand
Author
Luzvic, Stephanus, 1567-1640.
Publication
[Rouen] :: Printed by Iohn Cousturier,
1634.
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Subject terms
Meditations -- Early works to 1800.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A06534.0001.001
Cite this Item
"The devout hart or Royal throne of the pacifical Salomon. Composed by F. St. Luzuic S.I. Translated out of Latin into English. Enlarged with incentiue by F. St. Binet of the same S. and now enriched with hymnes by a new hand." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A06534.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 17, 2024.

Pages

Page 187

THE INCENTIVE.

1. IF IESVS touch alone and mooue affects, which are the strings of our hart, good God! how sweet, how diuine a musike he ma∣kes therein. But if self-loue once play the Harper, and medle with the quil, and touch the springs but neuer so litle, ah me! it is a hellish horrour, and no musike.

2. When IESVS with a soft modulation steals into my hart there is streight such a sweetnes in the marrow and bovvels, as al things satisfy and please alike; life, death, prosperity, aduersity: You vvould verily say my miseries were charmed by IESVS and his Angels.

3. Touch but the harp, litle Dauid, giue it a lick vvith the quil, tvvang that only, I say, tvvang the

Page 188

domestical harp but neuer so lighly, whereon thy Gransier Dauid playd so long a goe, and it is enough. It was it dispersed the horrid clouds of sadnes and melancholy, & draue away the wicked Genius. O God, when I heare this Dauid both father and sonne of the Royal Psalmist, playing on his harp, how my hart iumps the while, yea how ready it is to leap out of it-self.

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