. Emblems, divine and moral . shall in this world findrest. True rest consists not in the oft revying Of worldly dross;Earths miry pnrchase is not worth the buying; Her gain is loss;Her rest but giddy toil, if not relying Upon her worldlings droil for trouble I that fond breast That is possessdOf earth without a cross, has earth without a rest. 36 EMBLEMS. BUOK 1. Cass, in Fs. The cross is the invincible sanctuary of the humble, the dejection of the proud, the victory ofChrist, the destruction of the devil, the confirma-t on of (he faithful, the death of the unbeliever, thelife of th
. Emblems, divine and moral . shall in this world findrest. True rest consists not in the oft revying Of worldly dross;Earths miry pnrchase is not worth the buying; Her gain is loss;Her rest but giddy toil, if not relying Upon her worldlings droil for trouble I that fond breast That is possessdOf earth without a cross, has earth without a rest. 36 EMBLEMS. BUOK 1. Cass, in Fs. The cross is the invincible sanctuary of the humble, the dejection of the proud, the victory ofChrist, the destruction of the devil, the confirma-t on of (he faithful, the death of the unbeliever, thelife of the just. cross of Christ is the key of paradise; theweak mans staff; the converts convoy; the up-right mans perfection ; the soul and bodys health;the prevention of all evil, and the procurer of allffood. Epig. , whose whimpring folly holds the lossesOfhonour, pleasure, health, and wealth such crosses,Look here, and tell me what your arms engross,When the best end of what he hugss a cross ? POOR 1. 37. Lalet fiOstis, et otia PETER V. sober, be vigilant; because your adversary thedevil, as a roaring lion, tcalketh about, seekingwhom he may dost thou suffer lustful sloth to creep,Dull Cyprian lad, into thy wanton brows;Is this a time to pay thine idle vowsAt Morpheus shrine? Is this a time to steep S EMBLEMS. BOCK 1. Thy brains in wasteful slumbers: up, and rouseThy leaden spirit: Is this a ti re to sleep ? Adjourn tliy sanguine dreams, awake, arise,Call in thy thoughts; and let them all advise,Hadst thou as many heads as thou hast woundedeyes. Look, look, what horrid furies do await Thy flattring slumbers ! If thy drowsy headBut chance to nod, thou fallst into a bedOf sulplfrous flames, whose torments want a boy, be wise, let not thy thoughts be fedWith Phrygian wisdom ; fools are wise too late :Benare betimes, and let thy reason severThose gates which passion closd ; wake nowor never;For if thou nodst thou fallst; and, f
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