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The blessedness of the righteous discoursed from Psal. 17, 15 /The blessednesse of the righteous discoursed from Psal. 17, 15 /
The blessedness of the righteous discoursed from Psal. 17, 15 / by John Howe ...The blessednesse of the righteous discoursed from Psal. 17, 15 / by John Howe ...
printed by Sarah Griffin for Samuel Thomson, 1668
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.
3. Consider, how blessed a satisfaction dost thou lose? how pleasant, and delightful a rest, arising both from the sight of so much glory, and so peaceful a temper, and constitution of Spirit? Here thou mightest have enjoyed an eternal undisturbed rest.
3. Consider, how blessed a satisfaction dost thou lose? how pleasant, and delightful a rest, arising both from the sight of so much glory, and so peaceful a temper, and constitution of Spirit? Here thou might'st have injoyed an eternal undisturbed rest.
But for rest, and satisfaction thou hast vexation; and endless torment, both by what thou beholdest, and what thou feelest within thee. Thy dreadful visions will not let thee rest; but the chief matter of thy disquiet, and torment, is in the very temper, and composition of thy soul. Thy horrid lusts are fuller of poisonous energy, and are destitute of their wonted objects, whence they turn all their power, and fury upon thy miserable self. Thy enraged passions would fly in the face of God, but they spend themselves in tormenting the soul that bred them. Thy curses, and blasphemies, the envenomed Darts, pointed at Heaven, are reverberated, and driven back into thy own heart. And therefore,
But for rest, and satisfaction thou hast vexation; and endless torment, both by what thou beholdest, and what thou feelest within thee. Thy dreadful visions will not let thee rest; but the chief matter of thy disquiet, and torment, is in the very temper, and composition of thy soul. Thy horrid lusts are fuller of poysonous energie, and are destitute of their wonted objects, whence they turn all their power, and fury upon thy miserable self. Thy inraged passions would fly in the face of God, but they spend themselves in tormenting the soul that bred them. Thy curses, and blasphemies, the invenom'd Darts, pointed at Heaven, are reverberated, and driven back into thy own heart. And therefore,