AN ELEGIACK ESSAY, Humbly offered to the Pious Memory Of the Late Reverend and Learned Mr. MATTHEW MEAD, Minister of the GOSPEL at Stepney.
BRight Sol retiring to the Western Deep,
Dull Night's Approach confirm'd a solid Sleep;
And the Chill Horrors of the Gloomy Night,
VVhose pow'rful Shades had chas'd the chearing Light;
VVith Sable Attoms fill'd the low'ring Air,
Invading all our dusky Hemisphere,
VVhilst deepest Silence weary Eyes did close,
Tempting frail Mortals to a soft Repose;
[Page 2] All things lay in a perfect
Letbargy, Thick Darkness had o'erspread the Azure Sky;
All did enjoy a Peace, but my poor Mind,
O'ercharg'd with Grief, no Rest or Peace could find:
Such weights of VVoe my thinking Soul opprest,
That tore my Soul, and griev'd my tender Breast;
All wrapp'd in Melancholy Thought I lay,
VVish'd 'twould be ever dark, or soon be day;
Means I essay'd to ease me of my Grief,
But all in vain, I still found no Relief,
'Til kinder Tears at last my Silence broke,
And Rouz'd my Muse, which to this Purpose spoke.
MEAD's gone from Earth,—(O wretched Men) —'tis so;
He's gone where (soon or late) we all must go:
Gone ever, whom we ever shall deplore,
For ever gone, whom we did all adore,
MEAD, dearest MEAD, alas! is now no more.
Long since I heard the News, yet scarce wou'd give
It Credence, but believ'd great MEAD did live,
And until now cou'd not consent to grieve.
But t'other Day walking a silent Grove,
I found a sweet Recess, a dark Alcove,
Seem'd made by Nature, fit to Contemplate
The Turns and
Destinies of
Divine Providence.
Rigid Fate:VVhere on my Hand, my Head supinely laid,
Methought I heard a Mournful Accent spread,
Which Eccho-like in murm'ring Whispers said;
Drop, drop a Tear, for MEAD, Great MEAD is Dead;
Worth is withdrawn, and Piety's remov'd,
For MEAD is gone, so much Rever'd and Lov'd.
Amaz'd I stood, yet heard a Voice reply
His Fame's Immortal, and shall never dye,
But like his Soul, live to Eternity.
Then dry thy Tears, and his Just Praise pursue,
So Great a Preacher, Worthy Patriot too.
And now assist me, O thou Heavenly Muse!
VVhose bright Idea's nobler Minds Transfuse;
VVith Sacred Raptures help me for to tell
His Life and Death, whose Name's a Miracle.
Thou touch'dst the Princely Prophet's mournful Lyre,
VVhen he bewail'd lov'd Jonathan's Expire;
May such sweet Raptures my chill Breast Inspire,
And may l feel the like Poetic Fire;
That I in softest Numbers may relate
Our Loss; our Jonathan's too early Fate,
VVho liv'd the Glory of our Israel,
'Til as a Victim unto Death he fell.
O thou my Father! I'm distress'd for thee,
For very pleasant wert thou unto me:
Belov'd in Life, desired too at Death,
Which unto me prov'd sad expiring Breath:
And as to Souls thou greatest Love didst bear,
My Love to thee I never can declare:
[Page 5] This aggravates my Grief, to think that I
Shall here no more enjoy thy Company:
'No more shall I behold that Chearful Face,
Nor view again that Majesty and Grace:
'No more the Charming Prophet's Voice attend,
'And Prayers to Heav'n no more together send:
'No more shall he sad Hearts with Joy inspire,
'Nor kindle Frozen Souls with Heav'nly Fire:
'No more shall he with Pious Zeal possest,
Conduct the Saints to Everlasting Rest;
No more pronounce the Bless'd and Awful Word,
'Nor brandish up aloft the Flaming Sword,
'The Sword of God. Nor tell the Joys above,
Nor chant those Wonders of that World of Love:
'No more shall others Sorrows break his Rest,
'No more shall help the Injur'd and Opprest;
No more shall we in Ordinances walk,
'No more of high Coelestial Wonders talk.
No, no he's gone from us, Heav'n caught him hence,
His Soul being fully ripe for Recompence.
[Page 6] Yet Characters of Worthies (like the Sun)
Reflect a Lustre, tho' themselves are gone;
And do Immortal Names to them create,
For us to Honour, and to Imitate;
From whose bless'd Dust arise those Rich Perfumes,
That Rival, and Excel Arabian Gums.
Thus MEAD, Great MEAD, that Holy Rever'nd Bard,
Has left a Glorious Name: Speak else, who heard
Our Great Apollo to the Willing crowd,
The Wonders of Free-Grace proclaim aloud:
How Holy and Sublime his Eloquence,
When he those Sacred Pandects did dispence!
Methinks I see him still, those Smiles, that Grace,
That always sat so Regient in his Face:
That winning, taking Mean, which oft did dart
Light, Life and Bliss, into the Hearer's Heart;
And Wonders of Stupendious Grace and Love,
As if some Charming Angel from above
Had touch'd his Tongue with Coals of Sacred Fire,
Or as descended from th' Aetherial Quire:
[Page 7] How
Souls have melted! whilst he did proclaim
The matchless Wonders of Jehovah's Name;
And whilst with Charmer's Voice he did dispence
The Sacred Drops of Heav'nly Eloquence,
He fed the Soul, whilst others please the Mind,
And scarce has left an equal Bard behind.
The Masculine and Nervous Strain, from whence
Sprang such bright Oracles of greatest Sence;
Those Flights of Wit refin'd, from Folly free,
No fancy-pleasing-Arts were found in thee:
So Grave, yet Pleasant, was thy Copious Stile,
As sweetly did thy Hearer's Hours beguile:
So Great the Sence, and so Divinely sung,
That all attended to thy Charming Tongue,
As if Suadela's Graces on it hung.
So Seven Nations Homer's Birth contend;
Such Force his Eloquence, so Great his End.
Thus Passions strives in every Pious Breast
Which shall Bewail him most, and Love him best?
Crowds call him FATHER, and in Raptures tell
How by his Bow they willing Victims fell,
And how (thro' Grace) he sav'd their Souls from Hell;
And every Gracious Soul doth Emulate
Who shall most Love, who best shall Imitate:
O BƲKEN! thou may'st boast, since from thee came
A Prophet thus enroll'd by lasting Fame;
Since from thy Soil such Goodness did Descend,
Such Worth, such Grace, by better Powers design'd,
To Rival all the rest of Humane Kind,
Such Worth ne'er Poet sung, or Scribe e'er penn'd.
His Harvest has been large, his Season long,
And long he charm'd us with his Heav'nly Song:
Began in Youth, and carry'd on by Grace
Thro' Manhood, till old Age succeeds the Place:
Grace planted in his Soul hath sweetly throve,
Being daily water'd by the Spirit of Love,
'Till now made perfect with just Men above;
And overthrown that damn'd old Proverb; He
That's a young Saint may an old Devil be.
[Page 9] No, Grace will Triumph over Sin and Hell,
For all's laid up in Christ, it there doth dwell;
And from this Head of Influence is given
Life, Love, and Grace on Earth, and Joy in Heav'n:
If Christ can fail, then may we go astray,
But while Christ stands we CANNOT fall away:
But if we slip, (as we too often find)
Eternal Arms still stays us up behind;
And the Eternal Covenant secures
The Souls of the Elect while Time endures:
And when they've run their Race, doth safely Land
Their longing Souls upon their wish'd-for Strand;
Where bath'd in Bliss, eternally they sing
To Christ their Head, their Prophet, Priest and King.
Thus MEAD, dear MEAD, (The Mention of whose Name
Creates within my Heart a Sacred Flame)
Arriv'd at Glory; thro' this Living Way
Ent'red the Holiest, where Eternal Day
With Love and Praise his Ravish'd Soul imploy,
Nor shall Sin, Death, or Sorrow, more annoy,
Or fix a Period to Eternal Joy.
Faith's turn'd to Vision, Hope Fruition tasts,
And Pray'r is turn'd to Praise that always lasts;
Love's now Refin'd, Ʋnmix'd, from Sexes free,
And knows no Object but th' ETERNAL THREE:
O bless'd Estate of Souls! What's Heav'n above?
Nothing but the EPITOME OF LOVE:
He had these Blessed Mansions in his View,
His Faith was constant, firm, final, and true.
This made Him long, till welcome Death should send
His longing Soul to her beloved Friend:
So bow'd his Head, as blessed Jacob did,
Or his dear Lord, when on the Cross he bled,
And gently sigh'd, saying, Dear Jesus come,
So goes from hence to His Eternal Home:
It pass'd the Shades of Death, and made its Way
Into the Mansions of Eternal Day:
[Page 11] Saluted as she pass'd by blessed Throngs
Of Seraphims with their Coelestial Songs;
Who clapp'd their Wings, and welcom'd him aloud
Into th' Aetherial Courts, the Sacred Crowd,
For ever to Contemplate his God.
FINIS.