TO write the lines of our departed Frien • (eſpecially if more then ordinarily em • nent in the Church of God) is a cuſtom no leſſe Antient then approved, where •• the Tyes of Affection are retaliated, and the Bom • of Love diſcharged; it being Gods courſe to lead 〈◊〉 in the ſhort paſſage of our earthly Pilgrimage her • ſometimes by the ways of Diſcipline and Mortific • tion, ſometimes by the ways of Mourning a •• Lamentation; and alſo by the Examples of good a •• bad Preſidents, whereby to incite to vertue, a •• diſſwade from vice; we having more need of Examples, then precepts, to prevent us from the C • reers of Sin, and to lead us aright under the ſhado • of this worlds vanity.

Grace doth not cut off the affections of Natur • but rather Ripen them; and Relations make goo • men more paſſionate, and to ſpeak feelingly of th • Death of their Friends, whoſe perfections ſhoul • preſs ſome Tears from our eyes, and to ſay with th • •• ophet, Is Jonathan gone? he ſhall ſtill breath in • y ſoul: Neither doth God loſe his Relations 〈◊〉 the Death of his Saints, Joſua 1.2. John • .11.

And ſurely it is much of Religion, to take notice 〈◊〉 Gods choiceſt veſſels, and ſuch as are moſt dear • nto him, by the Egregia virtutis • empla veluti lu • min edito ponenda •• t, ut omnibus • eluceant, &c. Example of an holy, and Religious life; the which (through an impulſive power) not only gives luſtre and reputation, but carries with it a moſt lively Feature of Divine Reſemblance, and the Characters of Divinity; yea the Pat •• rns of the vertuous, we find (by ſome) to be cal •• d the ſeeds of Eternity.

Neither (omitting what we find in other Hiſto •• es) do we want a plentifull ſtore-houſe of Scrip •• re Preſidents, the ſpirit of God being very large in •• eir prayſe. The Jews could not forget their good • enturion, Luke 7.5. and the Widdows (having ••• ſt waſh'd their Dorcas, and laid her forth with •• eir Tears) ſhewed the Coats and Garments ſhe •• d made them, Act. 9.29. Yea, ſo vigorous do we •• de the Examples of great Perſonages, as that •• ey are ſometimes call'd Angels of God, and Lights 〈◊〉 the people, 2 Sam. 14.17. and 21.17.

How much then doth it import to enter into •• oſe Liſts, in which Gratious ſouls have run their •• urſe? whoſe lives inſtruct, whoſe Deaths teach, •• d whoſe works follow them! there being no better • ordiall to comfort the Friends of the departed, or 〈◊〉 revive their drooping Souls, then by this way 〈◊〉 making them alive.

The Aegyptians ſpent much time, and coſt i • Embalming their Friends, and building their Tombs as ſondly conceiving that they were to remaine longer in them then in their houſes; and yet all thi • while they did but lay them with their Faces downwards; the Imitation of their vertues being the beſ • way to preſerve, and maintaine a Familiarity wit • them in their Graves: The righteous (ſaith David) ſhall be had in everlaſting Remembrance: Yea the Evangelical Prophet thinks it a thing very worthy to be laid to heart, that the Eſa. 57.1. Righteous periſh, and n • man conſiders it.

If a good life then be the beſt Monument, and thoſe Memories ſtand faſteſt, which are founded o • the Rock of vertue and Religion [all others decaying which are laid in the foundred Bottom of worldly vanity] how ſad is it to obſerve, that ſtrange kind of under-valuing the memory of the Dead [ſo highly recorded by the ſpirit of God] which float • in the Fancies of ſome who are down-right Satyriſt • againſt their deſerved Prayſe! yea, how ſoon (alas!) do they leave off chafing the Temples of their Friends no way conſidering, how good it is to begin, and end, all our Actions with the Meditation of our Duſt, whereby Nature [at firſt] gave us beginning, and Death [at laſt] will put an end to all our eathly travel and miſery!

And ſo farre are many from deſiring here (with Philip of Macedon) to be minded of their Mortality, and departure hence, as that rather (with that Lewes 11. • French Prince) they command their ſervants not ſo much as to mention Death; as 〈◊〉 no care were to be taken before our earthly lodg •• gs grow rotten, the foundation ſinks, the Fur • ture becomes moath-eaten, and the whole structure begins to fall about our Ears. Yea, how often • alas!] do we deferre the welfare and happineſs of • ur Soul, untill Years approach, Phyſitians grow im • otent, the Evening ſtarre of our life begins to appear, our Sinews ſhrink, our blood congeals, the Bells tod, the winders are in our ſight, Death ſtrikes • t our heart, and a aying hana is only left us to be • ueath away all we have; this being but a bad •• me, to provide for the grea • Birth day of Eter • ity.

The greateſt work we have to finiſh in this world, 〈◊〉 to die well, and to make a happy departure out of • t, whereby we leave the world before it leaves us, • nd give Death our hand as a wellcome Meſſenger, not as an affrightfull Serieant; it is good [early] to • e familiar with it, and to take notice of all its approaches, by the diſſolution of others; there being • omething of benefit to be reaped by our Neigh • orus departure. Not a Paſſing Bell, but (like Gen. 49.1. Jacob calling to his ſons) ſerves to mind us, our turn may be next; nor is there a Corpſe carried to be buried, and • aid in its laſt reſting place, but being dead yet speaketh, yea preacheth our Funeral Sermon.

Beſides, though we have loſt the ſight of our friends, yet not our Affections, (ſaith St. Quamquam ſeparati ſumus aspectu, non tamen Affectibus; S. Ambroſe. Ambroſe) we ought not to part with them ſo ſoon as natur •• parts with them; or to throw away all our acquaintance with the Grave-ſhovell; but ſtill to maintaine that intimacy of Affection which we find warrantable from the word of Truth; our Saviour, being pleaſ'd to call Lazarus his Friend, though he were in his Grave, John 11.11. And Moſes wa • ſtill the ſervant of God [though dead] Joſhu • 1.1.

Neither can I believe, that thoſe whoſe pulſe o • Affections ſo ſoon leaves beating [under what colour or pretence ſo ever] as not to beſtow one ſigh o • Tear, to beſprinkle the urne of their departe • Friends, have found the right way of committing them to the earth; though not fooliſhly to diſcharg • the ſurpluſage of our Paſſions on our ſelve • [which would prove rather Heatheniſh, then Chriſtian-like] or by an over amorous Devotion to preſerve the Reliques of our departed Friends, whereby tha • which [at firſt] was but the Picture of a Friend (in time) grows to a falſe God.

That tears are a Tribute due to the Gen. 37.3 • Dead, w • we find in the Father of the Faithfull; and weeping Jacob would not be comforted, but ſaid, Surely, I will go down into the grave unto my Son mourning. Neither ſhall we be unfurniſhed of occaſions for grief, from the Cradle to the Grave, while we are here in this valley of Tears.

We are here encompaſſed with ſeverall ſorts o • Tears; we have our Repenting Tears, we have our Lacrym • poenitentiae • fellow-feling Tears, but (above all) our Lacryma com • ſſionis, Lacry • ae Doloris. Grief Tears are thoſe which ſeem moſt to affect: theſe are they which (like low grounds) ſtill make us moiſt, and watery: Theſe are they which make the Prologue of our life • eeping, the Act of our life weeping, and whoſe Epilogue ſtill ends in weeping.

We hear one (with the widdowes ſonne) crying •• y head, my head! Another (with the Children of • e Prophets) moaning my belly, my belly! yonder • ands one (with David) lamenting my Son, my • ou! here another (with Eliſha) crying out my • ather, my Father! one groaning (with Hezekiah) • nder the burthen of his ſickneſſe; another (with • achel) bewayling her Children and will not be • omforted. Yea, we finde the height of grief expreſs'd in Scripture, by one that mourneth for his on • y Son: and the ſpirit of God making it as it were a •• ing impoſſible for a Mother to forget her Child. Eſa. • 9.15.

We read of St. Ambroſe, that he lamented the Death of Ʋalentinian and Gratian, as if he had • oſt both his Eyes; and again (ſpeaking of his dear Brother Velut ocu • s m • hi de •• ſſos do lco, • t. Amb. de • bi. Satyr. Satyrus) he ſaith, Can I ever forget thee with whom I have ſpent out my life? any we finde the Prophet ſetting it forth, as a Curſe to die unlamented, Jer. 22.18, 19. and that paſſage • n the Prophet Zachary [that that dieth, let it die] Zach. 11.9. is held by him as a Malediction; being as much as to ſay, let it do no good in dying, which ſeems alſo to agree with that of the Apoſtle who tels us that Trees without Fruit are called twice dead; an • truly, its a kind of ſecond death, if none living b • the better for us.

And do we not finde the Prophet as it were calling back Elias out of the Clouds; ſo unwilling wa • he to let him go but ſtill to have him in his ſight 〈◊〉 not like thoſe who ſo ſoon part with their friend (laying them with their Faces downward) as i • [being dead] they live no longer to them; the Affection of the one expiring with the breath of th • other, and both breathing out their laſt together.

But what need we more? when [certainly] we have the beſt of Patterns for our Tears, Joh. 11.35. ſo as we greive not like thoſe without hope, 1 Theſſ 4.13. who was known to groan and weep, but never to laugh. He inquired of all thoſe that paſſed by, whether any ſorrow were like his ſorrow? Lam. 1 • Nay we find his ſoul exceeding ſorrowfull, even to th • Death, Mat. 26.30.

He bids us [indeed] ſometimes to rejoyce, but in what? except out reproaches. St. Paul had his Joy, but it was in his Afflictions; and the Martyrs had their Joy, but dull fleſh was not the object; it was in their ſufferings; this kind of joy, muſt be ſown in Tears, and we muſt waite for it, till the Harveſt come; untill Heaven be our dwelling, incorruption our change, the Angells our Partners, and Immortality our Garment.

Thoſe (indeed) which do here make Earth their Heaven, & are not acquainted with the Muſick which is in the groans of the Afflicted, nor what Beauty is in the Tears of the Mourners, would wonder [or at leaſt wiſe think him Frantick, if not miſtaken in his way] who ſhould knock at a Grave-ſtone for a Companion; or ſhould go down into a Vault or Char • ell houſe to make Merry; And yet even hence may we draw inſtruction of Piety, and by the Meditation of the Death of our friends [whereby God [for our correction and inſtruction] is pleaſ'd often to chaſtiſe us in our neareſt Relations, and to open a Vein in the Arme for the curing of the head] produce a better life to our ſelves.

And certainly, its a Bad Flower, out of which we cannot ſuck ſome honey, tending to the benefit and advantage of our ſoul; and an unskilful Gardner, which will not [this way] allow ſome Thorns and Thiſtles to hedge in the Garden of his Soul, from the waſting Creatures of ſin and wickedneſſe; yea ſurely its a weak Stomack which cannot patiently look on a Death's Head in the midſt of a Feaſt; and a worſe App • tite which cannot ſometimes be content to feed on a Commons of Dry-Bones, with the Meditation of Mortality.

Miſtake me not; I do not ſay we ſhould ſo hang down our Heads, as that, becauſe Earth ought not to be our Resting place, we ſhould therefore make • it our Hell; Neither do I invite any [more then out of Religious obſervation] to ſeek for the living among the Dead; or to go down [with me] into the vault of this departed Child (which would be no other then as the mourning we read of the feined woman, 2 Sam. 14.2.) but only to preſerve their Graces, and recount the Paſſages of their life; that ſo, though we cannot ſtill behold them, we may ſtand Remembrancers of their worth.

But not to let my Pen too farre digreſs, neither make too great a ſtay in the Porch or entrance, before we approach the houſe, by ſhewing you how Jſaac mourned three years over his Mother; Jacob, 22. years over his Son; nor (as ſome Rabbines would tell us) that Adam mourned 100 years for his Son Ab •• ; Neither that the Jews were wont to hire men for to lament their Dead (who cut, and pricked themſelves that they mi ••• weep in earneſt) let it be enough that there is a Time of weeping appointed by God. Eccleſ. 3.4. That there is a Bochim and Valley or Tears, where we ought ſometimes to life up our voices, and weep: yea, a Marah, which occaſions bitterneſſe of Soul, and (as at preſent) fills our hearts, and eyes full of weeping, and lamenting: To which, after have we once given their full ſcope, they will grow the more eaſy and lighter; And happy are we, if we can ſo refreſh our heavineſſe by our Tears, as to cleanſe that fountaine of Sin, which is ever and anon offering us the ſad occaſions of our Greif and ſorrow.

But now, to write the life and Death of a Child, in an Age which affords ſo many Preſidents of worth and larger Endowments, may (to ſome) ſeem as ſtrange as unuſual; to whom I anſwer that, at as eſt perfecta, ubi • virtus eſt perfecta; Age is perfect where vertue is perfect; and that God (who deſpiſeth not the day of ſmal things but whoſoever worketh Ri • hteouſneſſe is accepted with him) always judgeth thoſe things greateſt, which are moſt gra • ious; the leſſe we ſeem to our ſelves, the greater we are with him, and the ſafeſt Diſcendend a c • oe lum aſcenditur: Caſſiodorus. aſcent to Heaven is by the acknowledgment of our own Nothingneſſe,

Our bleſſed Saviour (who was the Oracle of Truth it ſelf, and who came not to break the bruiſed reed, nor to quench the ſmoaking flax, Mat. 19.13.) was pleas'd to receive, and bleſſe thoſe Children which were brought unto him; yea, to tell his Diſciples [plainly] who were (or ſhould have been) the wiſeſt of men (in regard of the many wonders and Miracles they ſaw, and the conſtant familiarity they had with their Lord and Maſter) that, unleſſe they became as • ittle Children, they ſhould not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven, Mark 10.14, 15. and were fain to to have the Pattern of a little child held forth unto them to abate height of their thoughts, and to teach them humility, and lowlineſſe.

Whereby we ſee, that, ſhould we look for perfection in the beſt of Gods Servants [nothing being here abſolutely ſo [we ſhould find the failings of good men, ready to produce a reſtraint of their their Graces; no Gold being without its droſs, nor Corn without its Tares. And how happy were it for many [poor ſouls!] who ſtand ſo much upon the uprightneſſe of their hearts and lives [being rather objects of grief and pitty, their Bodies being ſo near their graves, and their ſouls no way provided for Heaven] if they had but the acquaintance with Death, which this poor Child had!

Nor let the ſhortneſſe of her Age, any way deterre from the Imitation of her vertues, ſhe being ſo richly endow'd with the Innocency of Child-hood and beginning ſo ſoon to live to God, to learn th • Scriptures of a Child, 2 Tim. 3.15. and to remember her Creatour in the dayes of her Youth, Eccle • 12.1. yea, in the dawn and morning of her few dayes did ſhe begin to ſuck in the milk of Gods wor • (as it were) with the milk of her Nurſe; and [b • her early Fruits] ſeemed [there] ſo to ſettl • her Virgin Love, as that (had it pleaſ'd God to have afforded her longer life) ſhe gave grea • hopes of proving herſelf very inſtrumental in his Church.

And that ſhe had a love to Gods houſe, appeared by her often enquiry in the week dayes, when ſhe ſhould go to the Church; and her earneſtneſs to go thither, as if God (who hath milk for Children as well as ſtronger meat for thoſe that are of a full Age, Heb. 5.13, 14.) had inform'd her Soul, how pleaſing a thing it was to him, to come early into his vineyard; and (however ſhe endured not the heat of the Day) hath now [no doubt] given her, her Reward; the veſſels appointed for the ſervice of his Temple, being not all of one Bigneſs, yet none unuſeful.

Her fear of taking Gods name in vain, was alſo very obſervable; ſhe was not only very cautious her ſelf, but hath been often heard to reprove others; • cquainting them with the danger thereof, which was a true ſign of that heavenly wiſdom, whereof the fear of the Lord is the beginning.

Her deſire alſo of Schooling arboad, of reading praying, and being Chatechized at home, was well • own to thoſe which were about her; wherein 〈◊〉 would often intreat others to help and inſtruct •• er; which greatly took her off from miſpending •• at time (whereof ſhe had little to imploy) which otherwiſe] might have been ſpent in the vanities of Childhood.

Her dutifulneſſe to her Parents, was likewiſe to • e noted; how careful was ſhe to pleaſe them? how • earful to offend them? how ready to obey them 〈◊〉 • he which [as we find it an honour to the (2 Joh. 4. • Elect Lady, that all her Children walked in the Truth] muſt needs be a comfort to them, to hav • • uch an Olive-Branch about their Table.

Very watchful and fearful ſhe was to do evil 〈◊〉 • nd which ſhe would not only ſeem to check in herſelf (when through weakneſs or tenderneſs of nature, ſhe was at any time made ſenſible of ſuch frail • ies as are incident to the overſights of Child-hood) • ut even ſtand wondring at others; and (as much a may be) in her words, and Gestures] reprove tha • in them, which ſhe ſeem'd ſo much to diſlike i • • her ſelf.

Neither [had God pleas'd to lengthen her life was her peaceable diſp • ſition likely to have prov'd th • leaſt Jewel in the Diadem of her vertues; making 〈◊〉 (as it were) her ſtudy in her health [but eſpeciall her ſickneſſe,) as appear'd by her many expreſſions 〈◊〉 thoſe about her, to be quiet, which (wit • much earneſtneſs) ſhe often repeated, thereby ſeeming to invite us to that Gospel-rule of living pea • ably with all men, 1 Theſ. 4.11. being a duty neceſſary, as wanting in the general courſe of o • lives.

When ſhe ſaw any Poor, it ſhould go hard but ſhe would find ſomething to ſupply and 〈◊〉 freſh them. And when ſhe heard of any that we ſick in the Family [whether Servants or other how tender, and tending would ſhe be (eve • with ſeariouſneſſe of advice, and with ſu • ſweet ſpecches of comfort, as out-went many wh • had ſpent more years in the world; ſaying it w • Gods will, we ſhould be ſick, it was for our good, a • that God could ſend ſickneſs or death to her alſo, if 〈◊〉 pleaſed ſo to do!

What ſhall I ſay? ſhe was a Child [or rather a w • man] in whom did appear ſo much of perfection, an • a Divine Soul, as hath been ſeldom known at h •• Age; yea, ſhe was as a little world, wherein w • contain'd a lively Map of heavenly Graces. Nature [or rather the God of Nature] baving endow'd he (as with the Innocency of Child-hood, ſo) wit • the apparent ſigns of grace in her old-age, ſhe being of a compoſed ſpirit, and heavenly temper; 〈◊〉 a quick wit, and active Body; modeſt in her ca •• riage, ſolid in her behaviour; of a ſweet, wining and affable demeanour and diſpoſition; fa • miliar, and loving to all; by whom ſhe was a • gain as generally beloved, and at her Death as much Lamented.

Her ſickneſſe was long and teadious [near twenty • eeks] her pain, and lingring fits were many, and • t ſighs, and groans (at times) not a few. Yet oh! • ith what abundanc of patience did ſhe overcome •• em? Ah! with what mildneſſe and chearfullneſſe, •• d ſhe undergo, and poure our, her ſhort and deep • tch't breath, which ſtill threatned the approaching • f that laſt Enemy which Nature ſo much ſtruggles • ith; though (to her) ſeeming no way Dreadful, 〈◊〉 the many, long and teadious aſſaults that Death • ade upon her!

Or if [through continued wea • ineſſe, and pain] 〈◊〉 might in the midſt of ſome violent diſtemper •• em to be troubled in her Imagination, ſure it • as no way, in her memory; the which [without •• e leaſt diſturbance in her Soul) laſted even to the •• ſt h • ur, and wherein the goodneſſe of God was ex • reſs'd, ſince diſeaſes (like mercileſs Theeves) rob • any of their ſenſes on their Deaths-beds, when they •• ve moſt need of them, and often fall into • eat outragiouſneſſe and blaſpheaming even of God •• mſelf!

Neither is long ſickneſſe to be looked on as a ſign • f Gods anger (the delays of whoſe favours are not • lways a Refuſal] who often differs his cure, where • y to raiſe from Death; and ſuffers his Children • oftentimes) to fall into lingering ſickneſſes, for • eir better Repentance, and to teach them that •• eir Bodies are not free from Infirmities, and to •• e end that thoſe who are Exemplary in their lives, [the Saints of God (as we find in Scripture • being beſt at their Ends, and the living ſpeecues 〈◊〉 dying Chriſtians uſually beſt remembred, and mo •• regarded] ſhould (through his ſtrength, and thei • own patience) ſhew ſomething Remarkable in thei • ſickneſſe, and Death.

And though ſhe was long going to her journeys end • yet ſeemed ſhe no way tired, with the length thereof [the true Temper of a Chriſtian in dying] but was well contented to waite his leiſure, whoſe appointed time [queſtionleſſe] was the beſt for her, and whoſe ſubmiſſion to his will made her Bed ſeem ſo eaſy in her ſickneſſe.

It was a rare thing to obſerve in a Child ſuch an heavenly comportment in ſickneſſe, and even contempt of her enſueing Death! to ſee her, how ſhe lay in the time of her ſickneſſe! with what undauntedneſſe of ſpirit, yet humble meekneſſe! How ſhe held her peace (I mean in any way of murmuring or impatient repining againſt him, whoſe doing it was! no diſtracted geſture being ſeen in her countenance, nor to be read in her complaining; not ſo much as letting an eye [as it were] to roll amiſs, though (perchance) ſhe had many hard encounters, and did oftentimes wreſtle with many ſtrong and violent Conflicts, ſo that as Death (which embitters all the comforts of this life to the wicked (God ſe • retly ſtanding by her, and making her to overcome at laſt) was to her not only ſweet but welcome; • d of whole future happineſſe (though lying many • eeks ſick, like a Princeſs in a ruinous houſe ſhe que • onleſſe) ſaw a glimps, through the chincks of a •• ckneſſe-broken Body.

Neither could ſhe chuſe but ſmile upon Death • aving (as it were) from her very Infancy, by a • ontinual exerciſe in vertue triumphed over Sin, • hich only makes Death to be formidable. And • hough ſhe ſaw Death making towards her, and of • en heard thoſe that came to ſee her, to queſtion her Recovery, by the incureableneſſe of her diſeaſe; yet was ſhe not ſeen to make the leaſt change in • er countenance, or ever to expreſſe the leaſt diffi • ence in Gods help towards her Recovery; but • ather, a holy readineſſe by Death [yet very • arefull in obſerving all means tending to pre •• rve a longer life] whereby to enjoy the preſence of him ſhe ſo often call'd on in her ſickneſſe 〈◊〉 even her good God] and which (with much • arneſtneſſe of ſpirit) ſhe often repeated, and ex • ected health from; as well knowing ſhe was in the Armes of life, and ſhould [at laſt] finiſh her • ourſe with joy.

But before the Candle of her life was put out, the Miniſter coming to ſee her, ſhe took him by the hand, and deſired him to pray for her; which was twice powerfully done the next Sabbath Day, not without the pouring out of many ſighs, and the ſhedding of many Tears, by thoſe that were then preſent. And however God was not pleas'd [whoſe ways are paſs't finding out, and often uſeth to exerciſe our, patience] to give an anſwerable Return in regard of her Recovery (intending her for himſelf yet was ſhe afterwards endow'd with unſpeakabl • comfort and patience, even to her laſt Breath. I being impoſſible [as St. Ambroſe told St. Auſtin • Mother] that a Child of ſo many Prayers ſhould miſcarry.

Neither could it be any thing elſe which made he • to ſhew ſo meek and quiet a deportment in tha • work of Dying, but her being ſatisfied with the heavenly Manna of her Saviours preſence, and that ſight of heaven, which in a more then ordinary way ſtrengthned her towards her long Journey; and where ſhe plainly foreſaw, all Tears an • ſighs ſhould be wiped away from her eyes, and every fit of ſickneſſe ſhould have its peculiar Crown.

When her ſpirits began to fail, and to loſe ground of their uſuall quickneſſe, and her ſpeech began to fail, her inward ſtrength [no doubt] increaſed, while her outward decayed. Nor may we conclude other, but that [ſo long as Nature was pleaſed to fanne a little breath into her Noſtrills] grea • was the comfort between God and her Soul, who is the beſt Interpreter of the heart; and who at laſt gently drew out her Breath, and (as it were) led her by the hand into that Manſion he had prepared for her; like a Tree loaden with abundance of Fruit, and having a Spirit too full of ſplendour to be longer obſcured in a cloud of Fleſh.

And after her Soul was gone a Sacrifice to Hea •• n, with how chearfull and ſmiling a counte • ance, did ſhe look; as if [even then] at her de •• rture hence, ſhe had had ſome ſweet conference • ith her Saviour and his bleſſed Angels [who are • id to take care of little Children, Mat. 18.10.] ſhe •• emed no other [after her panting and long-fetch't reath] then as one that was refreſhed with the • eep of death, yea all thoſe that behel'd her, ſaid •• at ſhe never looked fairer then in her mourning Dreſs and attire, Ah! how pleaſingly did ſhe •• ok, when ſhe lay diſroabed of all her ſin, and •• rrows it brought with it? there being then neither •• gh nor groan, neither grief nor pain to perplex her • uiet Soul, which was then newly fled to heaven • ith the white wings of her Dovelike Inno • ency.

Nor need thoſe that came to deck her, bring any • lowers [which in her life time ſhe ſo much delight • d, and took pleaſure in] or to ſpend any time in • dorning that prety piece, in the ſweetneſſe of • hoſe ſmiling looks there appear'd ſuch a pleaſant •• ring of Roſes, and lillies, which had over-ſpread •• er lipps and Cheeks; neither wanted a Garland to • race her at her Death, having in her life time been • eautified with the Flowers of a more laſting condi • ion.

Inſomuch, as that when ſhe had put off the cloths • f her Mortality, how did all think (or at leaſt •• tive to keep) her alive in their Reports (while others thought Death too cruel) out of that affection, which ſtill made them to kindle new hopes of her life, at every ſpark of probability!

But as the faireſh, and ſweeteſt The Text at her Funeral, Job. 14.1, 2. Flower is of a fading condition, and ſubject to be caſt down; ſo how ſoon (alas!) had this new born light attain'd its full aged Noon? Ah! behold, how ſoon the ſhadow-flying-days of her life conſumed? how quickly the blace of her ſhort Pilgrimage expired? ſhe budded, ſhe Bloſſom'd, and was in her Prime (being like a Roſe newly blown and gatherd) between the ſaeventh and eighth year of her Age.

But this Diamond muſt be ſet in clay, and the rareſt Jewels (like earthen Veſſels) at laſt diſſolve and turn to duſt. The beſt gold muſt have its trial, and the pureſt corn muſt firſt die before it ſpring. That ſo good a Child ſhould die, hath matter of grief in it; but that ſhe died ſo good hath ſome recompence of comfort with it: That ſhe was cut off in the Bud, and First Age of her harmleſſe Innocence, may ſome way ſeem to carry ſorrow with it; but that ſhe ſo much gains by her change, is only taken hence to be freed from further Miſeries, hath comfort and ſolace in it, farre above our ſorrow; and though in the one our loſſe ſeems to call for Tears, yet in the other her gain alloweth us the breathing of Joy; being (by Death) only taken from the ſhadowes and falſhoods of a wretched world, to enjoy the reall Glories of Heaven; and to be enroll'd in the golden Catalogue of the Children of her Saviours Kingdom.

In the mean time, her Grave is but a Bed of Roſes where her Reſt will be ſweet, and her Night-Cloaths, at laſt taken off. Though God pleaſe to turn us to aſhes, he will not turn us to nothing, our aſhes being only more ſacred, and God (who is the keeper of our Duſt, out of which he firſt made us) will out of them again reſtore us: Yea he who takes care of every hair of our head (being living,) doth the ſame of every grain of our aſhes [being dead] we ſhall again meet with our old Bodies, which are but for a time placed in Gods withdrawing-Room, or laid to ſleep in Lazarus Bed.

She died about the approaching of the Spring, when the Birds and Flowers (which ſhe ſo much affected) ſeem'd to deck her Hearſe, and to ſing her Elegie, breathing out her pure and divine ſoul in that peaceable, calme, and comfortable manner, as that ſhe taught the ſtanders by, no leſſe vertuouſly how to die, then ſhe had formerly how to live; leaving (as it were) a maked, and diſconſolate Houſe behind her (in reſpect of her affable carriage, and loving diſpoſition) to all that came afterwards, and found her wanting.

But though the Night of Death have overtaken her, let us not ſuffer her ſo to depart from us; but to let her always live in our Memory; ſhe was once (indeed) more properly ours, but is now a Jewel ſet in Christs Diadem (who hath but taken his own) yet have we her ſtill by commemorating, imitating, and very highly (in love eſteeming) what we ſaw remarkable in her life.

God is pleas'd to honour them that honour him, and to continue a good Report to a good life; God looking on her (then) with the eye of his Favour, may ſhe ſtill ſo remain in our ſight; and as ſhe was the Object of our wiſhes in her life, ſo let her now be the ſubject of our practice in her Death, wherein ſhe ſtill speaks, and is a voice to her friends and Relations, the Memory of our departed friends being like a Legative Ring, which nothing but Death ſhould pluck off from our Fingers.

And ſeeing, that when we droppe into our Graves, a Funeral drowns all our delights [which like Vermin run away, when the houſe is falling] may theſe (then) ſerve as a Ha • d-k • rcheif to wipe off the Teares, and as a Bracelet to wear about the Armes of all thoſe that knew, and related to this Child; to whom ſhe is ſtill ſpeaking, though the night of Death hath turn'd her Mid-day into Darkneſs.

Neither let any wonder [my ſoul being more then uſually vaild with the Blacks of ſorrow] if I ſtrew one Flower more then ordinary on her Hearſe, or if I beſprinckle her urne with ſome Tears, and once again diſcend the vault, to touch the ſhrine of this ſo greatly beloved, and lamented Child, whom God (whoſe Almighty power is ſtill guided by a moſt wiſe providence, and tempered with a Fatherly love) was pleas'd ſo ſhortly to call after her departed Brother.

Her Brother did I ſay? Ah! ſtay gentle Reader! and once more here let fall thy Tears; Ah! let me forbear a little, leaſt my greifs bleed afreſh, and I too dearly prize that name, by calling to remembrance that black night which uſhered in ſo ſad a day.

And ſhould I again begin, I ſhould but repeat what I have written, and renew a freſh that Sorrow which may be (in part) forgotten, he being alſo the joy of his Parents, the Delight of his Friends, the hopes of his Country, the life of his name, and (in thoſe afore mentioned vertues of love, meekneſſe, and ſweetneſs of diſpoſition and heavenly Inclination; and who (with his own) did even carry out ſouls away) her neareſt Parallel.

There being no Diviſion which could make them two, in vertue or Amity; being both alike, as well in Perſon, as carriage: Dying both about the ſame Age, of the ſame ſ • ckneſſe; • ying ſick the ſame ſpace of time, and near the ſame ſeaſon of the year, having both their The Text at his Funeral, Pro. 14.32. hope in Death.

And may I not ſay (as it was once) in the words of David, 2 Sam. 1.23. They were lovely and pleaſant in their lives, and in their Death they were not divided, now ſhining (no doubt) like Natures Gemeini, in the clea • Horiſon of Heaven and happineſſe. And whoſe Tear-dew'd Hearſes [being ſent hence, with abundance of ſighs, having paſs't the various ſtormes of this world, and left their earthly Receptacles] lie buried both together in the vault at Eaſt-Ogwel • n Devon! whence (their Souls being already tranſmitted to thoſe heavenly comforts they own enjoy) their Bodies expect the re-uniting of thoſe Aſhes, which (in the mean time) are carefully preſerved by that Omnipotent hand, which firſt brought them together, and will a • laſt give them a bleſſed and happy meeting to all Eternity.