Iob militant with meditations diuine and morall. By Fra. Quarles.

About this Item

Title
Iob militant with meditations diuine and morall. By Fra. Quarles.
Author
Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644.
Publication
London :: Printed by Felix Kyngston for George Winder, and are to bee sold at his shop in Saint Dunstons Churchyard in Fleetstreet,
1624.
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Subject terms
Job -- (Biblical figure) -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A10266.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Iob militant with meditations diuine and morall. By Fra. Quarles." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A10266.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 15, 2025.

Pages

Meditatio sexta.
SO poore a thing is Man. No Flesh and Blood Deserues the stile of* 1.1 Absolutely Good: The righteous man sins oft; whose power's such, To sin the least, sins (at the least) too much: The* 1.2 Man, whose Faith disdain'd his Isacks life, Dissembled once, a* 1.3 Sister, for a Wife The righteous* 1.4 Lot, being drunk, did make (at once) His Daughters, both, halfe sisters to their Sonnes: The royall Fauorite of heauen, stood Not guililesse of* 1.5 Adultery, and Blood, And he, whose hands did build the Temple, doth Bow downe his lustfull knees to* 1.6 Ashtaroth The* 1.7 sinfull Woman was accus'd, but none Was found, that could begin to sting a stone. From muddled Springs, can Christall Waters come? In some things, all men sin, in all things, some.
Euen at the soyle, (which Aprils gentle showers Haue fild with sweetnesse, and inricht with flowers) * 1.8 Reares vp her suckling plants, still shooting forth The tender blossomes of her timely Birth,

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But, if deny'd the beames of cheerly May, They hang their withred heads, and fade away: So man, assisted by th' Almighties Hand, His Faith doth flourish, and securely stand, But left, awhile, forsooke (as in a shade) It languishes, and nipt with sin, doth fade: No Gold is pure from Drosse, though oft refin'd; The strongest Cedar's shaken with the wind; The fairest Rose hath no prerogatiue, Against the fretting Canker-worme; The Hiue No hony yeelds, vnblended with the Wax, The finest Linnen hath both soyle and bracks: The best of men haue sins; None liues secure, In Nature nothing's Perfect, nothing Pure.
Lord, since I needs must sin, yet grant that I Forge no aduantage by infirmity: Since that my Vesture cannot want a Staine, Assist me, lest the tincture be in Graine.
To thee (my great Redeemer) doe I flye, It is thy Death, alone, can change my Dye; Teares, mingled with thy Blood, can scower so, That Scarlet sinnes shall turne as white as Snow.

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