A bundle of soul-convincing, directing, and comforting truths clearly deduced from diverse select texts of Holy Scripture, and practically improven, both for conviction and consolation : being a brief summary of several sermons preached at large / by ... M. Roger Breirly ...
About this Item
- Title
- A bundle of soul-convincing, directing, and comforting truths clearly deduced from diverse select texts of Holy Scripture, and practically improven, both for conviction and consolation : being a brief summary of several sermons preached at large / by ... M. Roger Breirly ...
- Author
- Brereley, Roger, 1586-1637.
- Publication
- London :: Printed by J.R. for Samuel Sprint ...,
- 1677.
- Rights/Permissions
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To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Link to this Item
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http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A29488.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"A bundle of soul-convincing, directing, and comforting truths clearly deduced from diverse select texts of Holy Scripture, and practically improven, both for conviction and consolation : being a brief summary of several sermons preached at large / by ... M. Roger Breirly ..." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A29488.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 17, 2025.
Pages
Page 76
For under it I judged stand: therefore
To thee I'le cry, for I am low and poor.
And I have none, but thee alone: and I
To thee will cry, to heal my maladie.
Here will I stay: thy word hath slain my heart,
And here I'le lye, until thou heal my smart:
Thy only hand, O Lord, that hath me slain:
Can raise me up, and heal my wound again.
My breach is great, my load I cannot bear;
My sins are great: my sorrow is my chear.
In sad laments, My cry is still to thee,
That thou would mercy shew, and pity me:
Thy mercy Lord, which in thy bosom lyes:
To that I cry, to heal my maladies.