. Emblems, divine and moral . ed;I faint already ; if I bleed, I die. Jes. Tis either \ou mu:t bleed, sick soul, or I:My bloods a cordial. He that sucks my veinsShall cleanse his own, and conquer greater painsThan these: cheer up ; this precious blood of mineShall cure thy grief; my heart shall bleed for , and view me with a faithful eye,Thy soul shall neither languish, bleed, nor die. 148 EMBLEMS. BOOK 3. S. AVGIST. Lib. X. , be merciful unto me! ah me! behold, Ihide Dot my ^vounds: thou airt a physician, and I amsick; thou art merciful, and I am miserable. S, Greg, i
. Emblems, divine and moral . ed;I faint already ; if I bleed, I die. Jes. Tis either \ou mu:t bleed, sick soul, or I:My bloods a cordial. He that sucks my veinsShall cleanse his own, and conquer greater painsThan these: cheer up ; this precious blood of mineShall cure thy grief; my heart shall bleed for , and view me with a faithful eye,Thy soul shall neither languish, bleed, nor die. 148 EMBLEMS. BOOK 3. S. AVGIST. Lib. X. , be merciful unto me! ah me! behold, Ihide Dot my ^vounds: thou airt a physician, and I amsick; thou art merciful, and I am miserable. S, Greg, in wisdom, with how sweet an art doth thy wineand oil restore health to my healthless soul! Howpowerfully merciful, how mercifully powerful artthou! Powerful for me, merciful to me ! Epig. thou be sick, and such a doctor by ?Thou canst not live unless thy doctor die:Strange kind of grief, that finds no medcine goodTo suage her pains, but the Physicians blood I BOOK 3. 149 4. |iiji^L.,.::|;[fflrri:rii;.--.;ir. PSALM XXV. 18. Look upon my affliction and my pain, and forgive allmy sins. Ijoth work and strokes ? both lash and labour too ?N^hat more could Edom, or proud Ashur do?Stripes after stripes; and blows succeeding blows!Lord, has thy scourge no mercy, and my woes 150 EMBLEMS. BOOK 3. No end ? my pains no ease ? no intermission ? lb this the state, is this the sad condition Of those that trust thee ? will thy goodness please T allow no other favours? none but these? Will not the rhetric of my torments move? Are these the symptoms, these the signs of love ? Ist not enough, enough that I fulfil The toilsome task of thy laborious will ? May not this labour expiate and purge My sin, without the addition of a scourge? Look on my^ cloudy brow, how fast it rains Sad showrs of sweat, the fruits of fruitless pains: Behold these ridges, see what purple furrows Thy plough has made; O think upon those sorrows That once were thine; O wilt thou not be wood ? To mercy by t
Size: 1425px × 1753px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury18, booksubjectemblembooksenglish, booksubjectemblems
