A04463:188
Certain sermons preached before the Queens Majesty, and at Pauls crossCertaine sermons preached before the Queenes Maiestie, and at Paules crosse
Certain sermons preached before the Queens Majesty, and at Pauls cross, by the reverend father John Jewel late Bishop of Salisbury. Whereunto is added a short treatise of the sacraments, gathered out of other his sermons, made upon that matter, in his cathedral church at SalisburyCertaine sermons preached before the Queenes Maiestie, and at Paules crosse, by the reuerend father Iohn Ievvel late Bishop of Salisburie. Whereunto is added a short treatise of the sacraments, gathered out of other his sermons, made vpon that matter, in his cathedrall church at Salisburie
London: printed by Christopher Barker, 1583
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
The Foxes have boroughs, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not yet a place to rest his head in. God calleth to us by the Prophet, Bring wood; & build this house, & I will be favourable in it. Is it time for your selves to dwell in your ceiled houses, & this house lie waste? Your houses are fresh & fair furnished, & yet my house lieth desolate, flat upon the ground. Behold the miserable desolation of my holy place, my flock is scattered in the mountains: behold your brethren ye lie in chains in a thousand places bound, beaten, tormented, and drawn to most cruel death, ⟨image 61⟩not for any offence they have committed, but only for the building of my temple: and professing of my name. They are your own body, flesh, and blood. My bones are scattered upon the face of the earth, my blood is shed without compassion, as it were water upon the ground. O what cruel eyes have you, that can see this, & not be moved? that can build your own houses, & serve your own pleasures, and leave my house forsaken?
The Foxes haue boroughes, and the birds of the aire haue nests, but the Sonne of man hath not yet a place to rest his head in. God calleth to vs by the Prophet, Bring wood; & builde this house, & I will be fauourable in it. Is it time for your selues to dwel in your sieled houses, & this house lie waste? Your houses are fresh & faire furnished, & yet my house lieth desolate, flat vpon the ground. Behold the miserable desolation of my holy place, my flock is scattered in the mountaines: behold your brethren ye lie in chaines in a thousande places bound, beaten, tormented, and drawen to most cruel death, ⟨image 61⟩not for any offence they haue cōmitted, but only for the building of my temple: and professing of my name. They are your owne body, flesh, and blood. My bones are scattered vpon the face of the earth, my blood is shed without compassion, as it were water vpon ye grounde. O what cruel eyes haue you, that can see this, & not be moued? that can buyld your owne houses, & serue your owne pleasures, and leaue my house forsaken?