Sweete thovghtes of Iesvs and Marie, or, Meditations for all the feasts of ovr B. Saviovr and his B. Mother togeither with Meditations for all the Sundayes of the yeare and our Sauiovrs Passion : for the vse of the daughters of Sion : diuided into tvvo partes / by Thomas Carre ...

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Title
Sweete thovghtes of Iesvs and Marie, or, Meditations for all the feasts of ovr B. Saviovr and his B. Mother togeither with Meditations for all the Sundayes of the yeare and our Sauiovrs Passion : for the vse of the daughters of Sion : diuided into tvvo partes / by Thomas Carre ...
Author
Carre, Thomas, 1599-1674.
Publication
Printed at Paris :: By Vincent Dv Movtier,
1665.
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Subject terms
Jesus Christ -- Meditations.
Mary, -- Blessed Virgin, Saint -- Meditations.
Jesus Christ -- Passion -- Early works to 1800.
Meditations.
Cite this Item
"Sweete thovghtes of Iesvs and Marie, or, Meditations for all the feasts of ovr B. Saviovr and his B. Mother togeither with Meditations for all the Sundayes of the yeare and our Sauiovrs Passion : for the vse of the daughters of Sion : diuided into tvvo partes / by Thomas Carre ..." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A54916.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 3, 2024.

Pages

O SWEETEST night! my mynd I nere can wayne From thought of thee; in which the heauens; doe raine Huge shewres of grace; the hillockes flowe with sweets And from the mountaines, milke and honie sweates, O sweetest night! my starued soule doth dye, To haue a full draught of ty Ambrosie. Tertulian grauely said: some goods there are As well as euils, which euen oppresse, and beare Vs to the ground. The wonders of this night Are such; to find our God in su a plight; That hardly such a bastard soule is found Who sends not knees, and heart to kisse the ground.

Page 2

God threats eternall death; and yet we stand Stiffe-neck'd, nor bowe to that his powerfull hand. He offers endlesse life, nor are we mou'd By hopes nor threates, our God's nor fear'd nor lou'd. By thunder-bolts he testifies his ire He speakes the same by earth-quakes and by fire Yet stupide man, howere he dreade the rodde He lookes as high, as though there were noe God. But when the WORDS made flesh, when God's made man, The high flowen heart, must stoope, doe what it can. Heare your Seraphique Father teach this truth While he, as yet, lay strugling with his youth. While tortur'd thus I lay, quoth he, at length I had a feeble will to gather strength Thee to inioye, my God, nor could I find A way squar'd out according to my mynd Till I fell downe vpon thy infancie, Clad in the weede of our humanitie For then my wind-blowen heart began t'vnswell, And prostrate on my low layd lord I fell: Downe downe proude soule, keepe lowe, it is not meete That wormes should swell, while God lyes at their feete.

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He biult himselfe a cotage of our clay, To teach vs lowlinesse, and how t'obeye.
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