FOVR daies haue I spent in expounding vnto you the parable of Laza­rus, lading furth such treasour, as in that botched body we found hydden, whiche was neither gold, nor siluer, nor iewels, but rather religion con­stant courage, suffrance, & much patience. Forlike as these sly­dyng & transitory treasures are outwardly couerid with bram­bles, thistles, and rugged heth, and natheles in digging deaper great richesse is discouered: So fynde we in Lazarus, botches outwardely, but withinwarde, substance beyonde estimation, a body diseased, but a noble and liuely [Page] spirite, in whom that saieng of the apostle is fulfilled: howe well the vtter man is corrupted, so well the inner man is renewid. And truly I might this day al­so wade in the same parable, cō ­futyng suche heretikes, as re­proue the olde Testament, with the Patriarches, yea and spare not to whette theyr tounges a­gainst god the maker of al thin­ges. But for I wolde not my wordes all of one thyng, shulde to muche glutte you, these di­sputations refer I to an other season, and now let vs see, what we can saye in a newe matter. Parde ye knowe, that euer one kynde of meate, soone squaymy­sheth the stomak, wheras chāge quickeneth a continual apetite. [Page] To the ende therfore we vse the like in our sermon, let vs after a longe space, loke backe agayne vpon saynt Paule. For as this present day is red vnto vs very apoyntedly a place of y^e apostle, and handesomely agreeth that, that now we intend to say, with that we haue afore sayde. Ye haue herd then Paul declaring, and sayeng: Brethren, I wolde not haue you vnwyttyng what is become of those that sleape, least ye-make dole, and mourne, as o­thers do that want hope. That, of Lazarus, was a strong sinew of the gospel, and this nowe is the voice of thapostle, but in ef­fect their tunes accorde. For as in that parable I treated much of the resurrection, & of the iud­gemente [Page] to come: so hathe this text brought me backe now into the self same argument, because if we digge out well this place of the apostle, we shall not misse of the very same treasure. For then, my hole oration tendid to this effect, that y^e hearers might be taught, how nothing in thys worlde was to be reputed for goodly, but y^t rather in our ho­pe we shuld marche on further, hauynge dayly before our eyes, the dome of our iudge, howe re­doutable his iudgement is, & of what sterne grauenes we shuld fynde him. And doth not Paule with these wordes counseill vs the like? But herkē ye. Of those that slepe I wolde not haue you ignorant, to thend ye mourne not [Page] as other do, who haue no hope: For and if we beleue that Iesꝰ is dead & vprisē: so those that in Iesꝰ do slepe, god shal lead with hym. But in chiefe, this is worth the serche to be knowen. why? when he speketh of Christ, his depar­ting out of life he calleth death, and where he speaketh of oure deathe, he doth name it a slepe, and not deathe. For he said nat of the deade, what then? of those that slepe, & a litle after, so those that in Iesus do slepe, nat those that in Iesus are deade, god shal lead with him. And then agayn. We that liue, that are left til the commynge of Christe, shall nat preuent them that ar on sleape. Nat somuch as here said he, that ar dead, but thrise making men­tion [Page] therof, thrise death he called a slepe. But nat so of Christ, as for and if we beleue that Iesus is dead, he sayde nat is on slepe, but deade, and wherfore calleth he it Christꝭ deth, and our slepe? For nat rashely & at all auentu­res, but rather vpon some great and depe respecte, hathe he vsed this obseruation of wordes. So speakyng of Christe, he called it his deathe, to the ende the same myght be thought a passion in him, and as to vs he qualifieth it with the name of slepe, that therby he myght comeforte our sorow. For the cause wherof procedeth the resurrection, boldely he called death, but where all is grounded on hope, that nameth he a slepe, seming with the veray [Page] worde to comforte vs, and geue vs good hope. Inasmuch as he that slepith shal ryse againe, and death is naught els but a longe slepe. For do nat obiect me with this, that the deade heare nat, speake nat, see nat, nor fele nat, seing that a slepyng man hathe no parte of all these. But if al­gates I must reherce some wondre, howe say you to this? That the soule of hym that sleapeth, dothe after a maner slepe also, & the deade do wake. But a dead man (saiest thou) putrifieth, and rottith, chaungid into duste and asshes, what therof my freind? that makith the more for vs. For incase a lādlord, purposing to reedifie an olde and ruinous house, shuld (as he must) fyrst of [Page] all transport the tenauntes some where els, then plucke down the olde buyldyng, raysyng it more stately thē euer it was, this dede (trowe I) in nothing offendith the tenauntes, but muche more cheareth them, bycause they re­gard nat somuch the present de­facing, as with theyr mynd they comprehēd the plat of the house that shalbe, but nat as yet, to be vewed at eye: Euyn so doth god after lyke rate dissolue our bo­dyes, deductyng our soules the tenauntes as out of an house, to thend the same beyng ones new repayred, he may with greatter glory repossesse thē again therin. Lette vs nat therfore somuche counte vpon this present, in ma­ner defasyng, as on the gorge­ousnes [Page] that our house shalbe of. For admitte one hadde a copper ymage fordone with longe age and rustynes, parde he breaketh it, and in the fornace newe mel­tith it, to make it semelier then euer it was. And as that dissol­uing in the fornace, is nat thut­ter distruction of thimage, but rather a renewyng to the same: So is the dissolution of our bo­dies nat an vndoing, but rather a new refresshing. When thou seest therfore this fleshe of ours, as in a fornace melting and pu­trifieng, stay nat thy selfe at that sight, but rather haue an eye to the mouldwerkes proporcion▪ Neither suffice thy self herwith, but wade on yet further. Inas­muche as an ymage [...] whē [Page] he castith a bodie of brasse, he doth nat new make it of gold, or euerlastyng, but brasē as before it was. Wheras god on thother side casting this our mortal and earthly bodie, restorith it goldē, and immortall. For the earthe that receiuith our bodies fraile, and vnpure, rendrith the same agayn immortal, and right pure. Why shuld we then somuch be­hold on the corps lieng speche­les, and with eies closed, as whē it riseth againe, partaker of the glorie passing mans vttrance, to be astonnied, and wondred at? For thus must we from the pre­sent face of thynges, reduce our vnderstādyng to that hope that is cōmyng. Yet some wyll saye, they longe, and desyre, after the [Page] deades felowshyp, and therfore mourne, and lament they. But what is that to purpose? For & if thou shuldest ioyne thy daugh­ter in mariage to some one, who leadyng her awaye with hym, shulde goo into a farre cuntrey, lyuyng there in greate wealth & plentie of al thynges, this shuld not (I trowe) muche greue the, in asmuche as that sorow, which of the length of her absence thou conceiuest, through the comine reporte of her welfar, thou shalt easely passeouer. And now wheras no man, nor seruant is the taker, but god himselfe, requiring that is hys owne, thou sobbest &[?] criest out. But seyng I am[?] (sayest y^u) I can nat [...] And as for that I [...] [Page] sticke with y^e. For nat thy mour­ning, but the great excesse therof wold I take from the. Inasmu­che as to mourne it is a kyndely thyng for vs, beyng men, but to doo the same outrageously, is a veray madnes, a signe of doting and an womannishe tendrenes. I admit therfore thou wayle, I admit thou weape, but nat that thou do stomake at it, or beare it heauily, nay rather geue thanc­kes vnto god the taker, that so, thou maiste worshipefully sette furthe thy frende, goyng out of this life, and yeld vnto him these honest funerals. For and if thou takest it greuousely, thou bothe violatest the dead, ꝓuokest god the taker, yea and hindrest thine own selfe. But in geuing than­kes [Page] therfore, so hast thou set him furthe, glorified the taker, and done thy self a great good turne. Weape therfore: but as the lord did for Lazarus, who therby prescribed vnto vs the rule, ordre, and verie termes of bewailing, whiche in no case we must passe. And so sayeth Paule. Of those that slepe I wolde nat haue you ignorant, least ye shulde bewayle, as others do that wante hope.

Bewayle sayeth he: but nat as the Grekes do, who denie the re­surrection, whoo despayre of the lyfe to come. I am ashamed I promes you, and nat meanely I am troubled in my sprite, when I see in the mercatestede[?] theise flockes of women without sha­me, pluckinge theyr heares; sty­fing[?] [Page] their armes, scraching their chekis, yea and doyng al this a­fore the Grekes eies. What wil nat they say? what will nat they blaste of vs? Theise be they that so constantly affirme there shal­be a resurrection of the deade: gaye wordes: but theyr deedes drawe nat after that lyne, with their wordes they maintayn the resurrection, but theyr doinges smelle of the desperate. If they firmely trusted on the resurre­ction, they wolde nat do thus, if they were perswaded, the deade went to a better state, they wold nat make this dole. These taun­tes, and worse then these, do the vnfaithfull cast on vs, whē they heare vs crye out so. Let vs be ashamed therfore, and vse more [Page] modestie, nor sclander we not so muche therby, bothe our selues, and those that loke vpō vs. For I pray the tell me? why beway­lest thou so sore the passer out of this lyfe? Because he was an yll man? In that poynt (me thinkꝭ) thou oughtest to rendre thanc­kes, that all iniquitie is nowe lopped from him. But put case he was good and vertuous, so muche the more then shuldest thou reioise, at his taking away before any wyckednes had per­uerted his good thoughtes, and that he is remoued to that place where for euer he shall floryshe, without so much as neuer so li­tle suspition of any tourne in thinges. But he was a yonge man, glorifie thou god therfore, [Page] that toke him, and so sone hathe called hym to a better state. Then set case he was olde: and for that also yeld thou thankes, in glorifieng god his caller.

Be ashamed therefore of thy dolemakynge: sithens that the pompe of burieng, psalmes sin­gyng, prayers, assemble of hed citisens, gatheringe togither of the brethern, al these thinges ar ordeined, nat that thou shuldest lament, or be repynyng, but to thend thou geue thankes to god the taker. For like as euery man contendith to set fourth & speke well by suche, as are called to some great office or dignitie, so of the sainctes that deceas, (as who sayeth) called to a greater promotion, we all shuld speake [Page] honorably, sithens that deathe is restfulnes, the dispache of all thoughtꝭ and cares perteinyng to this lyfe. When thou seest therfore any of thy nere frendes shaking hādes with this world, do not take it grudgingly, but rather when the sorowe stingith the, call thy wittes togither, ser­che thyne owne conscience, con­sidre how within short space af­ter the same end abideth the al­so. Attempre thy selfe, and by the others death take warning. Cutte away all differring of a­mendement, call thy dedis to ac­compt, and make the best chang thou canst. The Ethnike and vnfaythfull beholdeth the hea­uyn, & worshippith the heauyn, takynge the same for god. He [Page] seeth the earth and worshippeth it, & gapith after thingꝭ mortal. But we on thother part behold the heauē, and prayse the maker of the heauen, inasmuche as we take the same nat as god, but for the worke of god. I see y^e worke of this whole world, wherby as by the hande I am led vnto the creatour therof. The vnfaithful seeth ryches, & fixeth his mynde theron, & is rauished therwith: I like wise see riches, and dispise it. He feelith pouerty, and why­neth therat: I fele the lyke, and reioyce therat. For otherwise be hold I thinges thē he doth. And euē so on death. He seith a corps, and taketh it for a corps: I see a corps, and repute this parte of death none other but for a slepe.

[Page]And as in writyng it comes to passe, that where as with eies, aswell the conninge, as vncon­ning do pore on the letters, Yet nat for that with lyke vnder­standing. For thunconning do take those for bare letters only whyche they loke on, whereas the conning with great subtilty pyke oute the meanynge vnder hidden: So in the thinges self, with the selfe same eies beholde we all, on mortall thynges, but nat with the lyke vnderstan­ding. Shal we therfore in this opinion of death agre with the Ethnikes? we (I saye) who in all other thynges do disagree from them? Thinke we ones, to whom the deade is goone[?], and receiue we consolation, king he [Page] is with Petre, Paule, and the hole company of sainctes.

Thinke, how he shal rise again, and that with farre more glory, and reputation. Thinke, howe that to mourne, and lament, o­ther els thy teares, may naught auayle the, but in fine make re­bound to thine owne disaduan­tage. Thinke, if thou doest thus, whose example thou folo­wist, and in any waies eschonne the company of synne. For here in, whome folowiste thou? or whom doest thou countrefaite? but the infidels, and those that haue no hope? Lyke as Paule saieth: lest ye mourne as the reste do, that haue no hope. And mar­ke ye well, how warely the apo­stle speaketh: for he said nat ho­pe [Page] of the resurrection, but plat­ly, those that haue no hope. For who so loketh nat after the iud­gement day, hath no maner ho­pe, nat onely of gods forsight in thinges, but nat so muche as of gods ryght wisenes, accordyng as he ouerue with all the same. He that hathe no syght in this, nor iugith nat this is so, is bru­ter then any beaste, and puttith all lawes, iudgementes, good constitucions, and for shorte, al goodnes out of his own mind. For who so loketh nat to rendre any counte of his doynges, sli­eth from all vertue, and cleuith to all naughtynes.

We then considering all this, and countinge the Grekes cu­stome, whiche we folowe in ma­kyng [Page] dole, to be a very madnes & amasing of y^e mind. Eschonne we (I say) this vsage with thē. For to none other intent dothe Paul so often make mention of them, but that remēbring what disworship we incurre therby, we shulde refraine customynge with them, and rather make re­tourne to our owne noblesse.

And that nat here onely, but of­ten, and continually doth Paul so. For when he wold haue vs leaue our synnes, then makith he demonstration, what maner men through our synnes we are coupled with, to thend we shuld mislike, and be offendid with the maners of the person, & shon his company. Further writing to the Thessaloniēs[?], thus saith he: [Page] Let eche of you possesse his owne bodie in all holines and honour, nat in susteining of disworship, as the Gentiles, who know nat god. And agayn, nat as thother Gen­tiles, who walke in the vanitie of theyr hertes. So also in this place. Brethern, I wold nat haue you ignorant what is become of them that slepe, lest ye mourne as others do who want hope. For nat the nature of the thyng, but the purpose of our mynde, nat the death of the passer hence, but the weake sprite of the bewailer is that, that troublith vs. For as for the beleuing man, no pre­sent displeasures can displease[?] him, but rather before that[?] [...] prepared for him, is [...] in this present [...] [Page] oddes betwix him and the vn­faithefull. No small vantage then receiue we through christi­an religion, onles we repute nat continuall quietnes of mynde, and euer a lyke gladnes, to be the greatest fruite we may here gather. Therfore saieth Paule. Ioy ye euer in the lord, agayn (I say) reioyce ye. For asmuche as before the resurrection daye, we ar priuileged in the mean space, in that we fall nat into theise dayly troubles of our lyfe, but rather through hope of the lyfe to come, euyn here receyue we great comfort, and consolation. Moreouer as we make game on bothe sydes, so on both sides is the vnfaithfull at[?] after deale, [...] throughthe[?] punish­ment [Page] remaynyng hym for nat trusting in the resurrection, the other, because euery small mis­happe here, discouragith hym, whoo looketh after noo maner wealth in that other worlde to come. And therfore nat only for the resurrectiōs sake, ought god to be thanked, but also for that hope of the resurrection, hable to comforte our soules in perplexitie, and encourage vs aswell in other thinges, as it dothe in this, that we shall rise agayne, and be with god. For and if we nedes must lament, and mourne: those that lyue in syn, nat those that deceas with vertue, shulde we [...] weape for. And so did [...] For writing to the Cori [...] [Page] thus saieth he. Least at my com­myng to you, god humble me soo much, that I must be faine to be­waile many of you, nat as deade, but that haue synned, and repent nat of the excesse and vnclennes they haue committed. Bewayle the dead, for he wantith his sen­ces, bewaile a foole, for he wan­tith wyt. Meanly bewayle the deade, for he is but at rest, but a foles life is worse thē his death. That and if algates we must be mone hym that is depriued of life, then muche more him, that is voide of ryghtwisenes, and hath missed of this gifte of hope sent to vs from aboue.

Suche men therfore let vs be­mone, for this mourning we do [...] inasmuche[?] as in be­moning [Page] them, ofte times we do refourme theim. Where as to bemone the deade is bothe fond, and improfitable. And so let vs nat abrogat this custom of dole makyng, but then let our dole be for synnes sake onely. For afore pouerty, sikenes, vntime­ly death, begylyng, or slaunder, all these with like discōmodities appertaining to vs we ought to bear out with a right good hart, because these euilles, incase we be patient, maye be occasion of a greter croune & glory. But how may it be (saiest thou) that a man mourne not? To this I are the contrary. Howe may it be, that a man endewed with reason con­templation[?] & hope of thinges to come, shulde m [...] [Page] But who is he (saiest thou) that in this confusion, and chaunge of thynges, may nat somewhat be moued? Many (I say) both in ours, and in our elders dayes.

For Iob, when the hole nom­bre of his children perished, her­ken ye what he sayeth. God gaue me them, God hath bereuid me them, as pleaseth god, so is it done. These wordes armeruai­lous to be rehersed onely, but if thou serchest them narolier, thā wilt thou more meruayle. For thus muste thou make thy di­scourse: How the dyuel his per­secutour toke awaye nat haulfe his chyldren, and lefte the other haulfe, nother that he toke the more numbre, & spared the lesse, but that he sweped[?] away al the [Page] fruite, and yet the tree he ouer­turned nat, he raysed all the sur­ges of the sea, and yet the shyp he drowned nat, he gaue the as­sault to the vttremoste, and yet the strong towre wanne he nat. So Iob abode all his bruntes, and remained in one vnstyrred. Many dartes were launced at him, whiche he shruncke nat for: nay rather they were launced, & he was nat wounded. Imagine we (I pray you) what a thynge it was for Iob, to see so many of his childrē al at ones perishing. Yea, and trowe ye nat, it was a sufficient corrosiue to his herte, to haue thē all taken from him? al (I say) togither, at one tyme, in one day, of like floure of age, of muche hope and towardness[?] [Page] in suche sort to finishe their yea­ris? after so many wrekes, and scourges, this laste to make vp his mouthe? specially he beyng so louing a father, and his chil­dren suche as deserued no lesse? For wher as one leseth by death his vnthrifty children, well may it cause him to regrete a litle, nat that the anguishe so hotely scal­dith him, chiefly because the vn­gratiousenes of such as deceas, may well be in cause, why that sorowe settithe nat her tethe so sharpely in vs. But if theyr goodnes he commendable, then thrilleth the that deape wounde with continuall remembraunce, and the incurable euyll breadeth two maner thornes in thy hert. That one is the remorse of na­ture [Page] and kynde, whiche we that liue haue, the other is the vertue the deceased persone was of.

Then, that Iobs chyldren were of much towardnes, may be ga­thered by this, in that their fa­ther toke much care about their bringing vp, and made ofte sa­crifice for them, hauing doubte at leaste vpon their hidden sin­nes. For nothinge was dearer to him, neither more tendid on, then his childrens bryngynge vp, an euidente argument nat onely of their good demeanour, but also of his fatherly affectiō.

Inasmuche therfore as Iob was a father, yea and so tendre a father, as nat onely expressed his naturall loue, but also the feare he toke for them, besydes [Page] that they that died, were of such an aproued honesty, trebly were those panges of sorowes leuelid at him. Whiche in case they had ben put to one by one, so might the pecemealeshype haue geuin place to som maner cōsolation, as when the presence of the sur­viuours, couerith the sorowe conceiued for the deade. But where as the hole flocke decay­eth, whome canne he susteyne to loke vpon? that before was fa­ther to so many children, and nowe hath nat so muche as one left him. And here now I might bring in his fifte sworde of so­rowe, in that they all at ones so sodainely were bereuid of their life. For and if their death had vetid within space of .iiii. or .v. [Page] daies, so might his wifes, and at his neighbours haue borne him feleship in lamenting with him, that in so short space, and so vn­lokid for, so goodly a meiny was quite fordone. But muche more cause of sorowe had Iob, who nat in thre, in two, or in one day, but in a moment was euenly de­priued of them al. For a mishap long loked for, albeit it touchith a man to the quicke, Yet for that the euill cōming is forseen, it is wont to be more tollerable. but when y^e same chancith bothe at ones, and at vnwares, then is it intollerable. When so euer then a thynge is greuous of it selfe, and therto doth opresse one beyonde his expectation, that is surely a greate enforcement of [Page] his sorowe. Nowe therfore re­pute with thy selfe howe intol­lerable Iobs sorowe was, and how it passed the common grief felte in like passions. But wilt thou hear now the sixte throwe of Iob? he lost al his children in the floure of theyr youthe, and pardie ye wote howe sore mens deathes afore their time of ripe­nes, are wont not onely to trou­ble theyr frendes, but also in sundry meanes to trouble them. then this of Iobs children was nat onely an vnripe death, but therto, a violent deathe, whiche violentnes may be takē for his seuenth calamitie for he sawe them nat yeldyng their gostes and laste breathes in their bo­dies, but they were al oppressed [Page] with the ruine of the house wher they banketted. Nowe put case some one as he digged amon­ges those ruines, shuld plucke out now a stone, & then a limme of some one of them, perchaunce one hande holdynge the cuppe, on other in the platter, with all the shape of the bodye quashed asūder, the nose frushed downe, the head crased, the eyes quisted oute, the braine dispercled, and the hole proportion of the body with the diuersnes of the bruses so disfygured, that the poore fa­ther myghte vnnethes discerne the desyred sight of one of his children from an other. At the rehersall onely of this tragedie, yeare moued to compassion and teares. What thincke you then [Page] by him that sawe this gere? For seing we now so long time sins, can not so muche as heare with out teares, so miserable a chance as this was, yea, and that no­thing ꝑtaining vnto vs: What maner a man, and of how stony an hert was Iob, (trow ye) who seyng all this with his eyes, nat in an other mans aduersitie, but in his owne, coulde so refraine, and mortifie his courage? For he neither repined therat, no nat somuche as ones openid he his mouth in grudge. As what meanith this? is this the recompēce of my mekenes? to this therfore hath my house stood open to all straunge gestes, that I shuld se the graue of my children? haue I therfore vpon those extendid [Page] all gentilnes, that these shulde suffre this death?

None of all these muttringis vttred he, no nat somuche as ones thought them, but after a longe debatynge with him selfe toke he all in good wourth. For like as a cunnyng founder, whē he castith an image of gold, doth proportion and make fete the moulde with all diligence, soo he with proportioninge and fe­ting, brought his courage to a good poynte. And as a painful husbandman, watrith, byndith, and hedgith in, the graffes of palme and Oliuertrees, likewise Iob ceased nat with all his stu­die to bring vp eche of their sou­les as a fruiteful Olyue tree, to a greater encreace of vertue.

[Page]And hauyng all done, when the storminge of the wicked sprite, had disturbed, and beaten them to the ground, with a miserable ende of theyr liues lotted vnto thē, yet vsed he no kinde of blas­phemie, but thanking god of al, gaue so the dyuell a clap at the auauntage. But now if thou wilt say, that his sorowe for losse of many chyldren, is nat to be compared to his, that had, and lost his onely childe, thou spea­kist well, and I wyl wel so be it. For nat euen, but muche greater was Iobs sorowe. For who can gesse the benefite risinge to the father of many chyldren? and perconsequent, the wound recei­ued in many bodies, must nedes engender a more manifest cala­mite, [Page] and sharper heuynes. But now, if thou desyrest an example of him, who hauing but one on­ly sonne, shewed neuertheles as great as Iob, or rather greater cōstance. Then loke thou on the Patriarch Abrahā, who in dede sawe nat his sōne Isaac die, but was cōmaunded (whiche thyng was far more piteous, and mise­rable) was commaunded I saye with his owne handes to kylle him, & yet this bidding he with­stode nat, neither toke it heuily, nor vsed none of al these wordis. To this thē hast thou made me a father, that I shulde be myne owne childes queller? better had it ben nat to haue geuen him vn to me, then in this wise to rede­maund him. But if thou wilt nedes [Page] haue him, to what purpose I besech the wilt thou haue him slayne of me, and my hand to be his bludsheder? was it nat thy promes, howe in this boye my sede shulde store all the worlde? and what frute geuest thou me, when thou pluckest vp the roo­tes? how assurest me thou of ne­phieus, and cōmandest my one­ly sonne to be slayne? who euer sawe the like, who dyd the lyke? I am begiled, I am betrayed. Abraham truly againsaide nat gods commandement, nor stode nat in termes of why, and wher­fore, with him, but when he had ones herde. Take thy dere and welbeloued sōne Isaac, & make of him sacrifice to me, vpō suche an hille as I shall apointe the, [Page] with as good a will he wente a­boute it, as if more had ben commanded him, he wold haue done his vttermost, for he both kepte this secrete from his wyfe, and from his seruantes, cōmanding them to tarye at the foote of the hille, and taking with him only Isaac for his oblation went vp, nat with a faynt hert, but glad­somely aboute the execution of gods cōmaundement. Thinke therfore howe harde a case this was, when no man beyng by, he did question (perchaunce) with his sonne aparte, whiche might make his hert the rather fown­dre into pitie, and a more vehe­ment heate of loue, nat in one or two daies, but in many daies to be quickenid in him, inasmuche [Page] as to haue dispached gods byd­dyng out of hande, was sure a very great and hard enterprise, but nat of suche maistrye, as by respite of so many daies to haue his minde temptid, specially be­yng beseagid with soo greate a loue, as he bare towardꝭ Isaac. For therfore dyd god apoynte him a place of further distance, where he shuld do his oblation, to the end the w [...]estlers styfnes might be the better assaied. And in dede a stiffe wrastler was A­braham, with no man, but with the very lawe of nature. For what eloquēs is liuely inough to set afore our eyes his stoute hert? He led away his sonne, he bounde him, laide him on the heape of wod, drewe his sword, [Page] was ready to strike him. I can nat tell I, howe, nor by what meanes to describe all this.

He only knew it, who toke vpō hym to do it. For no paynted wordes maye sufficientely sette oute colours in this behalfe.

For howe was nat his hande astonied? How did nat the force of his synewes weaken? Howe could nat the desirable presence of his dere childe, edge him to compassion? And then agayne, that, that Isaac dyd, how won­derus was it? For as Abraham obeyed god: so obeied he his fa­ther, & as when god bad Abra­ham slea him, he axed nat after the cause wherfore: lykewise I­saac, his father constrayninge him, and offringe him vpon the [Page] aultar, enquired nat of him why he did it, but was subiect to his will and pleasure. Here nowe may we see the father, a sacrifice of his sonne, & a sacrifice yelden vp withoute bloudshedynge, a burnt offring withoute fyre, for a figure of the death and resur­rection. He slewe his sonne and nat slew his sonne, nat with his hand, but with his intention he slewe him. And god cōmanded thus muche, nat for effusion of blouddes sake, but to manifest vnto vs the obedience of Abra­ham, and that hys promptenes mighte ouer all be notyfyed, to our teachynge and instruction. Howe that gods cōmandemētes ought to be preferred nat onely before our children, the lawe of [Page] nature, & briefly all other thyn­ges, but euin our very owne ly­ues. And therfore came he down to let Abrahams hande, hauing Isaac as a liuing witnes of this acte. What forgyuenes then shalt thou obtayne? or what ex­cuse can thou bring? seing such a man as Abraham was, with so good an hart to haue bowed him selfe, and in all poyntes to haue geuin place to god, and thou in this small case wilt nat take it well, but stubbernly?

For neyther alleage thou thy mourning, nor yet y^e gretnes of thy calamitie, but rather thinke howe Abraham was stronger, then so excedyng great, and far passynge a sorowe. For it was inough, that gods commande­ment, [Page] had some thing troubled, and cast his mind into perplexi­tie, togither with this, that god had assayed his faythe in other proofes aforetimes. Fo. who, excepte Abraham selfe wold nat haue reputed gods promis, as touchynge the multitude of his generation, & nephieus, to haue ben but disceite, and trompery? And yet this natwithstanding, we ought to haue Iobs pati­ence, and his wonderfull mode­ration, in greate price, namely his ouerturne, and fall, beinge so piteous as it was, in that a man of that excellente vertue, after so many almes dedes, and so great hospitalitie kept, when he neither had prouoked gods wrath vpon him self, nor on his [Page] children, shuld with his eyes be­hold so miserable a misfortune, so strange, and so vnloked for, yea and suche as in longe tyme falleth nat vpon the wickedest men that be. Nor for all this did he nat, as commonly men wont to do, neither iudged ver­tue vnauaylable, ne yet reputed his former life well led, to haue ben spent in vain. Eche of these therfore, we muste nat prayse onely, but folowe also, and do after their vertue. But some will saye, naye: they were men that passed. Ye truely: they pas­sed, and were meruaylous men. Natheles at our handes is re­quired a greatter religion, then at theirs was, whoo folowid but the olde fourme of lyuinge [Page] onely. For vnles your iustice be farre more habundant, then that of the Scribes, and Pharises, ye shall nat entre into the kyngdome of heauen.

Therfore in any wise vse we moderation, and callyng to our mynde, these, and those thinges, whiche of the generall resurre­ction, & of these holy men haue been repetid, let vs euer caulme our mindes, nat only whē cause of mournyng is obiectid vnto vs, but also when wear fre from any maner sorowe. For to the same purpose I at this present, what tyme none (as I thinke) is in sorowe, haue yet grounded my theme therupon, that when we haue iuste cause of doole, yet being armed with remembrance [Page] herof, we may receyue comefort accordingly. That like as soul­diours in tyme of peace, do pra­ctise feates of warre, that when warre is ones proclaymed, and the tyme requireth expertnes, they maye then at neade shewe furthe their conning, learned in tyme of reste. So likewise, pre­pare we both our weapons, and medecines, all beyng yet quiet, that if at any tyme these greate troubles, miseries, or sorowes do assault vs. We on the other side being wel armed, & strongly defensed, agaynst all the dyuels bruntes, may with muche mai­strie repulse them backe, & sheld our selfes, with godꝭ word, right reason, and example takyng at the good.

[Page]For in so doyng, we may lede this lyfe in muche tranquillitie of mynde, and afterwardes be partners of heauins kingdome, with CHRIST IESVS, vnto whom with the father, and the holy goost, be all honour and imperie, worlde without ende.

AMEN.