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         T. P.
      
       
         This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A90366 of text R212627 in the  English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.6[121]). Textual changes  and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more  computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life.  The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with  MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish.  This text has not been fully proofread 
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         EarlyPrint Project
         Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO
         2017
         A90366
         Wing P108
         Thomason 669.f.6[121]
         ESTC R212627
         99871230
         99871230
         160981
         
           
            This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of
             Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal
            . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
          
        
      
       
         Early English books online.
      
       
         (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A90366)
         Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 160981)
         Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 245:669f6[121])
      
       
         
           
             Eben Ezer, as a thankefull remembrance of Gods great goodnesse unto the city of Bristoll in preserving them from the forces of Prince Rupert without, and a treacherous plot within, to betray the city to them the seventh day of March 1642. / T.P. dedicates this.
             T. P.
             Philipot, Thomas, d. 1682, attributed name.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.)
           
             for Michael Sparke senior,
             Printed at London :
             1643.
          
           
             Sometimes attributed to Thomas Philipot.
             Verse - "O thou who dost excell the highest praise,".
             Annotation on Thomason copy: "March 21".
             Reproduction of the original in the British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
         eng
      
       
         
           Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Early works to 1800.
           Bristol (England) -- History -- Siege, 1643 -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
       A90366  R212627  (Thomason 669.f.6[121]).  civilwar no Eben Ezer, as a thankefull remembrance of Gods great goodnesse unto the city of Bristoll, in preserving them from the forces of Prince Ruper T. P 1643    566 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text  has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription.  
        2007-07 TCP
        Assigned for keying and markup
      
        2007-07 Aptara
        Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images
      
        2007-08 Mona Logarbo
        Sampled and proofread
      
        2007-08 Mona Logarbo
        Text and markup reviewed and edited
      
        2008-02 pfs
        Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
      
    
  
   
     
       
       
         
           
             official seal of Bristol, England
          
        
         
           EBEN
           EZER
           ,
           As
           a
           Thankefull
           Remembrance
           of
           Gods
           great
           goodnesse
           unto
           the
           City
           of
           BRISTOLL
           ,
           in
           preserving
           them
           from
           the
           Forces
           of
           Prince
           
             Rupert
          
           without
           ,
           and
           a
           Treacherous
           plot
           within
           ,
           to
           betray
           the
           City
           to
           them
           
             the
             seventh
             day
             of
             
               March
            
             1642.
             
          
        
         
           
             T.
             P.
          
           dedicates
           this
           .
        
         
           
             Exod.
             12.
             14.
             
          
           
             And
             this
             day
             shall
             be
             unto
             you
             for
             a
             memoriall
             .
             ,
             
               ver.
               42.
               
            
             It
             is
             a
             night
             to
             be
             much
             observed
             unto
             the
             Lord
             .
          
           
             Iudg.
             5.
             11.
             
          
           
             They
             that
             are
             delivered
             from
             the
             noise
             of
             Archers
             in
             the
             places
             of
             drawing
             water
             ,
             there
             shall
             they
             rehearse
             the
             righteous
             acts
             of
             the
             Lord
             ,
             even
             the
             righteous
             acts
             toward
             the
             inhabitants
             of
             his
             Villages
             in
             
               Israel
               .
            
          
        
         
           O
           Thou
           who
           dost
           excell
           the
           highest
           praise
           ,
        
         
           Thou
           wonder-worker
           ,
           life
           and
           length
           of
           dayes
           ,
        
         
           Thou
           never-failer
           in
           the
           mount
           to
           thine
           ,
        
         
           Onely
           wise
           ,
           present
           ,
           in
           each
           place
           and
           time
           ,
        
         
           What
           
             Brazen
          
           Colume
           ,
           or
           what
           
             Marble
          
           stone
           ,
        
         
           Shall
           we
           
             ingrave
          
           thy
           noble
           Acts
           upon
           ?
        
         
           This
           
             act
             ,
          
           thy
           strange
           
             act
             ,
          
           counterplotting
           those
        
         
           Blood-thirsting
           
             (
             Foraine
          
           and
           
             Domesticke
             )
          
           foes
           ?
        
         
           O
           native
           
             City
          
           how
           canst
           thou
           be
           still
           ?
        
         
           What
           would'st
           have
           more
           thy
           mouth
           with
           
             praise
          
           to
           fill
           ?
        
         
           Is
           
             health
             ,
          
           or
           
             wealth
             ,
          
           or
           
             plenty
          
           worth
           the
           having
           ?
        
         
           Or
           
             seed
             immortall
             ,
          
           sent
           thee
           for
           
             soule-saving
          
           ?
        
         
           Or
           
             Life
             ,
          
           that
           blessings
           make
           the
           rest
           to
           thee
        
         
           Matters
           of
           
             praise
             ?
          
           then
           sing
           a
           part
           with
           me
           .
        
         
           
             Septembers
             seventh
          
           was
           thankfull
           for
           the
           
             Scots
             ,
          
        
         
           And
           we
           not
           for
           our
           
             selves
             ,
          
           whose
           lives
           by
           
             lots
          
        
         
           Like
           
             Hamans
          
           bloody
           prodigy
           was
           cast
        
         
           This
           present
           
             March
             ?
          
           it
           might
           have
           beene
           our
           last
           ,
        
         
           The
           rising
           
             Sunne
          
           might
           warme
           our
           frozen
           brest
           ,
        
         
           More
           then
           a
           falling
           .
           
             Scots
          
           then
           ,
           now
           we
           had
           rest
           .
        
         
           Startle
           
             the
          
           Muses
           ,
           rattle
           
             up
             the
          
           Quires
           ,
        
         
           Of
           sweetest
           Musicke
           ,
           
             Citizens
          
           Bonfires
           ,
        
         
           Let
           
             Bels
             ,
          
           and
           
             Cannons
          
           roare
           ,
           your
           joyes
           
             expressing
             ;
          
        
         
           Young
           
             Men
          
           and
           
             Virgins
             ,
          
           in
           your
           comely
           
             dressing
             ,
          
        
         
           A
           way
           to
           
             Church
          
           in
           
             flockes
             ,
          
           the
           touling
           
             Bell
          
        
         
           Toules
           now
           for
           
             Heaven
             ,
          
           is
           not
           for
           death
           or
           
             Hell
             :
          
        
         
           Each
           
             streete
          
           is
           echoing
           praise
           ,
           the
           
             sword
          
           is
           staid
           ,
        
         
           The
           
             horned
             Rammes
          
           in
           
             Isaaks
          
           place
           are
           laid
           :
        
         
           So
           let
           them
           
             perish
          
           and
           indure
           
             disgrace
             ,
          
        
         
           That
           Traytors
           prove
           unto
           their
           
             native
             place
             .
          
        
         
           The
           
             King
          
           of
           heaven
           our
           gracious
           
             King
          
           preserv
           ,
        
         
           But
           those
           that
           doe
           his
           
             Grace
          
           pretend
           to
           serve
           ,
        
         
           I
           wish
           they
           may
           prove
           upright
           ,
           faithfull
           ,
           
             good
             ,
          
        
         
           But
           for
           to
           
             plot
          
           to
           shed
           their
           Neighbours
           
             blood
             ,
          
        
         
           As
           some
           have
           done
           ,
           and
           in
           this
           
             plot
          
           would
           doe
           ,
        
         
           They
           prove
           no
           lesse
           then
           King
           and
           Kingdomes
           foe
           .
        
         
           O
           
             Prince
          
           of
           
             Peace
             ,
          
           let
           it
           not
           seeme
           too
           great
           ,
        
         
           That
           
             Prince
          
           and
           
             Peeres
             ,
          
           and
           
             Peoples
          
           hearts
           may
           meet
           ,
        
         
           And
           all
           in
           
             unity
          
           and
           
             peace
          
           as
           one
           ,
        
         
           Build
           
             Zions
          
           walls
           ,
           and
           downe
           with
           
             Babylon
             ,
          
        
         
           Till
           when
           ,
           for
           mercies
           let
           us
           
             thankfull
          
           be
           ,
        
         
           And
           untill
           then
           ,
           never
           unbend
           our
           knee
           .
        
         
           So
           praise
           ,
           and
           pray
           ,
           and
           Fast
           and
           pray
           agen
           ,
        
         
           Vntill
           the
           God
           of
           
             Peace
          
           shall
           say
           
             Amen
             .
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
           
             Printed
             at
          
           London
           
             for
          
           Michael
           Sparke
           senior
           ,
           1643.
           
        
      
      
  

