A27107:192
The practice of piety directing a Christian how to walk, that he may please…
The practice of piety directing a Christian how to walk, that he may please God / amplified by the author
London: printed for Edward Brewster, 1695
No title page in the transcription: set from the catalogue record.
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 Soul (finding no comfort in the Eyes) speaketh to the Ears: O Ears, who were wont to recreate your selves, with hearing new pleasant Discourses, and Music's sweetest Harmony, can you hear any news or tidings of the least Comfort for me? The Ears are either so deaf, that they cannot hear at all, or the sense of hearing is grown so weak, that it cannot endure to hear his dearest Friends to speak. And why should those Ears hear any tidings of Joy in Death, who could never abide to hear the glad tidings of the Gospel in this life? The Ear can minister no comfort.
The Soul (finding no comfort in the Eyes) speaketh to the Ears: O Ears, who were wont to recreate your selves, with hearing new pleasant Discourses, and Musicks sweetest Harmony, can you hear any news or tidings of the least Comfort for me? The Ears are either so deaf, that they cannot hear at all, or the sense of hearing is grown so weak, that it cannot endure to hear his dearest Friends to speak. And why should those Ears hear any tidings of Joy in Death, who could never abide to hear the glad tidings of the Gospel in this life? The Ear can minister no comfort.
Then she intimates her grief unto the Tongue: O Tongue, who wast wont to brag it out with the bravest, where are now thy big and daring words? now (in my ⟨p. 50⟩greatest need) canst thou speak nothing in my defence? Canst thou neither daunt these Enemies with threatening words, nor entreat them with fair speeches? Alas, the Tongue two days ago lay speechless! It cannot in his greatest extremity either call for a little drink, or desire a Friend to take away with his finger the flegm that is ready to choke him.
Then she intimates her grief unto the Tongue: O Tongue, who wast wont to brag it out with the bravest, where are now thy big and daring words? now (in my ⟨p. 50⟩greatest need) canst thou speak nothing in my defence? Canst thou neither daunt these Enemies with threatning words, nor entreat them with fair speeches? Alas, the Tongue two days ago lay speechless! It cannot in his greatest extremity either call for a little drink, or desire a Friend to take away with his finger the flegm that is ready to choak him.