I could wish that some better, some other occasion rather than this, had brought me hither; Et ‘Si mea cum vestris valuissent vota. Ouid. Met.’ And if I (I will beleeue the same of eve­ry one here) had been master of mine owne desires, some other example should have told me that I must dye, and this body of mine must returne to dust. But tis mine, and I hope your daily prayer, Thy will be done, O Lord. My prayer was otherwise, the same our Saviour used when the sorrowes of death encompas­sed his soule, O my Father, Mat. 26.39.if it be possi­ble let this Cup passe from mee. And as David did, in 2. Sam. 12.16. I besought [Page 2]God that the Childe might live. His words shall be the subject of my dis­course: may his resolution and cheer­fulnesse, in this or the like case, be ever yours, and mine example and precedent. The words you shall finde, in 2. Sam. chap. 12. vers. 22, 23.

HEre is David and his Childe; the one lying sicke upon his bed, the other lying weeping upon the ground. God smites the childe with sicknesse for the Fathers fault; David punisheth himselfe with fasting and weeping for the misery of the childe, Who can tell whe­ther God will have mercie on mee, that the childe may live? The praiers of the Faith­full are never without fruit, though sometimes they bring it not forth in the [Page 3]same kind that we desire. God knowes what is better for us than we our selves. The childe was not for Davids keeping, and therefore the Lord will have him to himselfe; Death is sent, and fetches him away: what saies David to this now? Sure he that was so passionate when the childe was but sicke, will now grow outragious when hee heares of his death. This is indeed the temper of worldly minds; but Davids heart was cast in another mould: He that shewed so much devotion and humility whilest the matter was in suspense, and before he knew what God meant to doe; now he knowes his pleasure, can as easily sub­mit his obedience to Gods will with comfort. But now that God will so have it, and that he is dead, Why should I fast any longer? I will not fight against Gods pleasure, and vexe my selfe to no purpose: He cannot returne to me. I will rather make use of it for mine owne in­struction, and take it up for a meditati­of mine owne mortality: I must goe to him.

Thus the words may runne in Para­phrase. And if you will have them in [Page 4]parts, you shall have these foure. First, the sicknesse of Davids childe; in these words, Propter infantem jejun. Va­tab. While the childe yet lived: that is, whilst the childe was weak, sicke and in­firme.

Secondly, the remedy he fled to for his recovery, fasting and weeping: Whilst the childe yet lived, I fasted and wept.

Thirdly, his resolution after the childe was dead: But now being dead, wherefore should I now fast? can I bring him again?

Fourthly, a meditation on his owne mortality, He cannot come to mee, but I shall goe to him.

First of the sicknesse of Davids childe. 'Tis a certaine truth which Se­neca doth urge out of the Poet, De brevit. vitae. Exigua pars est vitae, quam nos vivimus. It is a ve­ry small part of our life, which we live free from sicknesse. And, as the same Seneca saies, Omne spatium, non vita, sed tempus, All the space of our daies is not life, but time: so with a little alteration may I say, with as much truth, Omne spatium non vita, sed tristitia, All our time is not life, but sorrow. What Tullie said of old age, may be as well spoken [Page 5]of the whole life of man: Senectus est ipsa morbus. Cic [...]de senect. Vitaipsa morbus est, Life it selfe, without the addition of any other paine, is a di­sease. That which the Prophet Esay saies of our Saviour, the Head, that he was Vir dolorum, a man of sorrow; we may derive in a qualified sense upon all his Members, they are Viri tristitiae, men of sorrowes, compasta­bout with infirmities. Esai. 1.6 The whole head is sicke, the whole heart is faint, from the sole of the foot even to the crowne of the head, there is no sound­nesse, but wounds, and bruises, and putrified sores. Our wounds have not been cured with the infusion of oyle, like the mans that lay betwixt Ieri­cho & Ierusalem; they have not been closed nor bound up, nor mollified with ointment, Ibid. as the same Prophet speaks in a spirituall sense, and we find it true in a literall. I know that in my selfe, saith Saint Paul, there dwelleth no goodnesse; we may alter the words, and say, we know that in our flesh dwells no soundnesse nor health: it may sojourne or lodge there for a time, but for any settled [Page 6]habitation or constant abiding, it hath none: be we at what cost we will for the entertaining of it, let us bribe our Physitians to the wa­sting of our estates, they cannot pre­serue our bodies from ach and rotten­nesse. Sicknesses, and death, were the curses that God laid upon our first Parents disobedience. Gen. 3.16. To the Wo­man first, I will encrease thy sor­rowes & thy conceptions: in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children. And then to Adam, In sorrow shalt thou eate all dayes of thy life; in the sweate of thy face shaltthou eate thy bread, till thou returne to the earth. Sinne set the foure elements in our bodies, and the harmony of our tem­per at oddes; their continuall com­bate creates daily diseases, so as we are still sicke. And besides the malig­nity that sinne infused into the body it selfe, there are vitiating and infe­sting qualities, diffused by the same sinne over all the creatures that should nourish it: there is a root of intemperance in our appetite, that sucks unwholesomenesse out of these [Page 7]nourishments; that are in themselves good and conservative. Such a body provoked by such an appetite, to feede on such nourishment, must needs make the Physitian necessary, and bring forth a large harvest of diseases. Nature is corrupted, and therefore tends to cor­ruption; the end of corruption is death, the way to death is sicknesse. So long then as we have such a nature a­bout us, we cannot thinke it strange, if sicknesse doe often seize on us. A cor­rupt fountaine cannot send forth sweet water, nor a corrupt nature maintaine a healthy constitution. The seeds of sickness are sowne in our nature by our Parents, when they beget vs, & they lie lurking in our veines & bones, waiting every occasion to invade our health, and to cut off the thread of our life; though sometimes we perceiue them not, yet in our flesh they are, and will neuer remoove their seige untill they have given us an overthrow. Colubros in sinu fovemus, We carry scorpions in our bosomes. And as it was said of Israel, perditio tua ex te, thy destructi­on is from thy selfe; so are we authors [Page 8]of ours. The body of man is nothing but a congeries, a heap of infirmities, as Martial said of Zoilus, ‘Non vitiosus homo es, Zoile, sed vitium.’ Thou art not vicious, but vice it selfe. So I say to the body of man, thou art not diseased, but a disease it selfe: good­nesse, mercy, iustice, doe not onely be­long to the nature of God, but are the very Being and Essence of him: he is not only good, but goodnesse; not per­fect, but perfection: so on the contra­ry, it is not much improper to say, that we are not only miserable, but misery; not sicke, but sicknesse it selfe. Homo est animal aevi brevissimi, Petrarch. Iob. 14.2.sollicitudinis infinitae. Man that is borne of a woman, is of short continuance, and full of trouble: when we are in our best health, we are Valetudinarij, weak and sickly; and (as the Physitians say) have only lucida inter valla, perhaps one good day betwixt two aguish, a calme betwixt two stormes. Quid est homo? 'tis Seneca's interrogation, (and he an­swers himselfe) a weak & fraile thing, liable and expos'd to all danger, impa­tient of heate, cold, and labour; they [Page 9]are all diseases vnto him. Seneca. Imò otio itu­rus in tabem, & alimenta metuit sua quibus rumpitur. Ease consumes him, and the bread which he eates to give him length of dayes, doth shorten them.

Our breath is corrupted, Iob 17.1. Iob 14.22. our dayes are cutting off, and the grave is ready for vs: while our flesh is upon us we shall be sorrowfull, & while our soules are in vs we shall mourne. Seneca. Si velis credere altius veritatem intuentibus, om­nis vita supplicium, If you will be­leeve the Masters of truth, all our life is punishment. He that by an expe­rimentall tryall, a serious observation, and a true contemplation, hath runne through all sublunary and inferiour things, though of the most transcen­dent perfection, speaks lesse than a truth, if he saies he found not sick­nesse, or (to use Salomons word) vexa­tion in them all. When we come in­to the world, we are throwne into a tempestuous Sea of trouble, and there are beaten with incessant stormes. Now the floud of discontent beates high, & whirls our troubled heads into amaze­ment, [Page 10]and now the ebbe of despaire sinkes our barque euen to the lowest hell: now are we in danger of this rock, now of that; now this gulfe, this shelfe, this gust, these quicksands doe make vs feare, if not suffer shipwrack: so let us saile where we will, when we can, we shall finde no haven of rest but the graue. Epict. Homo est calamitatis fa­bula, infaelicitatis tabula, Mans life is a story of calamity, a mappe of mise­ry: Iob. 10.17. Iob 10.1. changes, and armies of sorrowes are against us, and our soules are cut off though we live. All our life is but a continued disease: when we begin to live, we enter upon a lease of sorrowes, entaild on us and our heyres. Ingressus flebilis, progressus debilis, egressus horri­bilis. Our birth is mournfull, our growth is sorrowfull, our death is fearfull. Ecclus. 40.1. Great travaile is created for all men, and an heavie yoak upon the sonnes of Adam, from the day that they goe out of their mothers womb, till the day that they returne vnto the mother of all things. Such is the weight of griefe that doth depresse our hearts, that we may truly say with Iob, [Page 11]If our griefe were well weighed, Iob 6.2.3. and were well laid together in the ballance, it would now be heavier than the sand of the Sea: sicknesse and troubles come upon us like Iobs unfortunate messen­gers, one upon the neck of another. ‘Finis unius mali, gradus est futuri.’ Where one misery ends another be­gins, as one wave followes another: there is the same undivided continua­tion in sorrowes that is in waters, no intermixtion nor interposition of any thing else. We have Beares, and Lyons, and Philistims, & Sauls, as David had, that successively assaile us; and we have no sooner ended the combate with this sicknesse, but another with fresh sup­plies attempts our overthrow. Vita quid est hominis nisi vallis plen [...] malorum. We dwell in Megiddon, the vally of teares: sighes and lamentations are our com­panions: and, which is most miserable, our times appointed for rest, our sleeps are full of disturbances. Iob 7.13.14. When we say our couch shall relieve us, and our bed shall bring comfort, in our meditati­ons we are frighted with dreams, and astonisht with visions. A little or no­thing [Page 12]saies the son of Sir ach is mans rest, & afterward, Ecclus. 40.6. in sleeping he is as a watch­tower in the day, he's troubled with vi­sions of his heart, as one that runneth out of a battaile. And lest you should think, that he doth only here describe the unquietnesse of the Reprobate, he tells you immediatly, that such things shall come unto all flesh, Vers. 8. but seven-fold to the ungodly; which we have no way to prevent or extenuate, but by fasting and weeping. And so I come to the remedy which David used for his childs recovery, abstinence and teares; ‘While the childe yet lived, I fasted and wept.’

The people Israel, Pars secunda. when they made intercession for the obtaining of any great blessing, or the avoiding of any great danger, did alwayes use this re­medy of fasting and mourning And the Prophets did ever enjoine the Church, amongst others, especially to performe these two duties, when God threatned his iudgements against her: [Page 13]Turn to the Lord with all your hearts, Ioel 2.12. and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning, saies the Prophet. Let the people and the Ministers of the Lord, weep betwixt the Porch and the Altar; and let them say, Vers. 17. Spare thy peo­ple, O Lord, and give not thine inheri­tance to reproach. Sanctifie a fast, call a solemne assembly, Ioel. 1.14. gather the El­ders, and all the inhabitants of the land into the house of the Lord, and let them cry vnto the Lord. I dare alter our Saviours words, though not his truth, Man lives by bread; yet with Sa­lomon, I will pray against plenty: Feed me O Lord with food convenient for me, lest I be full, and deny thee. The empty soule sends to Heaven the most powerfull ejaculations, the full is dull and sluggish, and cannot get vp with the same nimblenesse. yet I will not fast too long: for too much abstinence ef­feebles the body, & by consequence e­nervates the appetite to devotion: fa­mine can kil as wel as a surfeit. Were I to receive the Sacrament, and found that abstinence would disprepare my [Page 14]meditations, and unfit mee for that purpose, I would eate, the better to enable me for Gods service, but not too much: for that were to fall into the other extreame, excesse, more dangerous, more pernicious: I will so eate, that I may be able to serve my God; and so fast, that I may doe it willingly. It was a meere Epicurean saying, Let us eate and drinke: such a temptation may verifie the conse­quence in us, to morrow we may die. neyther did it savour of discretion: for the last meate to him that knowes he must immediately dye, can never be well relisht.

The most delitious fare, though helpt with the best art of cookery, will bee distastefull: had not Gods blessing given a rellish to Iacobs pre­parations, Isaac had not taken such delight in eating his Venison. Ab­stinence sets dying men more for­ward in their way to heaven; eating and drinking stops them in their [Page 15]journey, and makes them fitter for rest, than a progresse. If mine own knowledge did not, yet the Chur­ches in junction should commend fa­sting unto mee, as a manifest effect of it, doth at this instant. I pre­sume it gave wings to our prayers, in the late contagious & pestilent times, and prepared a place for their well-come in the court of heaven. Fa­sting is a good preparation to devo­tion, and ever strongly insinuates, & furthers a grant; I place no merit in it, but 'tis an excellent preparative to devotion. And I shal ever beleeve▪ those good men, that fast most. The best of men that ever were, upon ex­mination of the Scriptures, you will finde to be the greatest fasters; Moses that talked with God, Elias that in a fyerie chariot went to God, Christ himselfe that was God. I dare say, that the perverse humour of dainty fee­ding, is as odious to God, as contrary to the lawes of the Church: neyther do I see how men can more strongly make their belly their god, than by [Page 16]yeelding more obedience to their carnall appetite, than their spirituall Commander. Presumptionis genus est tum manducare, Cal. in Num.cùm debemus jejunare, tum gaudere, cùm oportet flere. I equal­ly detest the ambition of the Papist, and the perversenesse of the Puritan, and therefore desire to barre the one from all thought of merit, and the other from the opinion of licenti­ousnesse. Vitanda superstitio, servan­da abstinentia. Hierom. Let us fast, and 'tis com­mendable, if not superstitiously. Holo­phernes intending the overthrow of his besieged enemies, diverts the course of their springs, and cuts off the convoy of their provision. if we will conquer our crosse passions and affections that fight against us, wee must weaken their strength by fasting and abstinence. The institution of fasting, is almost of the same anti­quity that the world is: for, nequaquam comederis, Chrys. serm. de jejunio. Gods prohibition to Adam, that he should not eate of the tree of knowledge, was a kind of command of abstinence: the breaking of it [Page 17]brought all misery into the world, the remedie is the practise of that which he in Paradise violated. Physick doth cure by contraries, there is no better receipt for a surfeit, than fasting. Our first Parents gluttony hath diseas'd our soules, and bodies, and wee can­not finde a better meanes of recovery than abstinence: their ryot drove us out of Paradise, our abstinence will possesse us of a better place. Quem luxuriando provocavimus, abstinendo placemus. Let us humble those bo­dies with fasting, which excesse and intemperance hath made rebels to their Creator. When a man hath committed a sinne, he hath incurred the wrath of God, and rendred him­selfe liable to eternall damnation, there is no way to take away this wrath and punishment, but by repen­tance; and what is repentance, but a disavowing of the sinne wee have committed, and being sorry that wee have committed it, and a wishing it uncommitted? Quem paenitet peccasse, Seneca.penè est innocens, Hearty penitence [Page 18]doth extenuate, if not annihilate the greatest fault. And though sorrow, and teares, and affliction of the soule, which should be us'd in fasting, are not things in themselves pleasing unto God, yet because they are arguments that we hate our sin, & sincerely wish it undone, and take a kinde of holy revenge upon our selves for commit­ting it, they are acceptable in his sight, and if attended with servent prayers, motives to accelerate and procure an absolution for it. The end of fasting, is either to obtaine some good that we want, or to escape some evill which we either feele, or feare. Good is either ordinary, or ex­traordinary: ordinary good is obtai­ned by ordinary devotions; these can not bee joined with fasting, be­cause they are to be daily. For extra­ordinary blessings we must use extra­ordinary devotions, and, like Iacob, wrestle with God. Now evill is ey­ther of sinne, or punishment: we fast to escape the evill of sinne, either by way of prevention (as Saint Paul, [Page 19]when he said, I chastice my body) to keepe us from falling into it; or by way of remorse, and penitence, to move the Lord to help us out of it. For the escaping the evill of punish­ment, if already inflicted, wee fast to move God to stay the procession of his vengeance: and this was Davids case heere; hee fasted that the Lord might spare the life of his sick childe. neither was it hypocritically, for my Text saies that hee wept also; and teares are powerfull invitations to draw God to mercy. They are the soules best oratours, and enter the gates of heaven, when our prayers are excluded. Iejunando Deum ora­mus, flendo exoramus, By fasting wee move our request, by teares wee ob­taine it, or if you will have it in the words of a Father, Bernard. Orando Deum le­nimus, lachrymis cogimus, prayers are petitioners, teares are ravishers, and force a pardon from God. There is no voice lowder in Gods eares, than the sighes and grones of a weeping Penitent. Let our teares precede, [Page 20]and Gods mercy will follow. Quò quisque est sanctior, Aug.eò in fletu uberior. Plenty of teares doe witnesse a full devotion, and the more holy we are, the more we should expresse it in our lamentations. Prayers often times re­ceive a deniall, but teares are bold petitioners, and will take none: E­zekiah and Mary Magdelen had freer accesse to their God by their teares, than praiers: when Peters tongue had pronounced him a traytor, his teares reconciled him to his Saviour. They that sowe in teares shall reape in joy: a sleight scattering and sprinkling of teares, will in the time of gathering yeeld us a fruitfull harvest of consola­tions. Away with the bloud of Rams & of Goates; if ye wil bring an accep­table sacrifice, offer up the teares and sighes of a contrite heart. No Epi­cure findes that pleasure in feasting, which repentant David injoi'd in his banquet of teares: and therefore he was desirous to make teares his meat, and his drinke; for they are the best nourishment of the soule vnto eter­nall [Page 21]life. Fulg. Ep. Quae ex compunctione cordis lachrymae manant, nob is donum laetitiae tri­umphantis acquirunt. Our Saviour Christ in the sixth of Luke, sets forth their happinesse that weepe, Beati qui fletis, quia ridebitis, Blessed are you that weep: for you shall laugh. When the tongue is ignorant what to say, teares doe argue and plead our cause strongly, Hi [...]. Loquuntur lachrymae silente linguâ. They quench the flames of hell, and make dull and rusty the edge of Gods avenging sword; they are the aqua fortis, which eates out the hand writing, which sin hath made against our soules, and give an ease unto us, when wee are weighed downe with the burthen of transgres­sions. ‘Expletur lachrymis, egeritur (que) dolor.’ These, like powerfull Embassadors, Ovid. never returne with an ungranted suite. Psal. 6. Therefore the Psalmist every night water'd his couch with teares. And Ieremie wisht his head a foun­taine, Ier. 9.8. and his eyes as overflowing channels. They that now sit wee­ping [Page 22]by the rivers of Babylon, shall one day have their eyes dryed by the Lambe that sits upon the Throne. But if our teares be only super ficiall, ‘Et habent artes, Ovid. qua (que) jubentur eunt.’ and proceed not from a hart that tru­mournes, they are so farre from ad­vantaging our soules, that they adde to our condemnation: wee must not only weepe, but mourne; cloath our hearts with sadnesse and affliction: They are the wedding garments which shall welcome us on the feast day, when the presumptuous guest shall bee bound hand and foot, and cast into utter darknesse. 'Tis not the moysture that distills from the eyes, but the drops that fall from the heart, that make the grace of God fruitfull in us. I would my head were a spring of teares, that I might pow­erfully teach by example, what I la­bour to perswade by my words. O may the Father of goodnesse and mercy, give us all teares for our sins, and grant that wee may fast, and sin­cerely weepe for the prevention of [Page 23]his judgements: but if it shall be thy pleasure (Lord) for our sinnes, to let them fall upon us, yet give us cou­rage and patience, meekely to suffer what thou shalt inflict. And so I come to Davids resolution after his childes death: ‘But now being dead, wherefore should I now fast?’

Preventing griefe is warrantable, Pars tertia. nay necessary, but after a deed past helpe, effeminate, or (which is worse) rebellious. Let teares pre­cede, if punishment be fear'd; thank­fulnesse follow, when 'tis past. 'Tis good for mee (saies David) that I have suffer'd affliction: Psal. 90. We are not to repine, when God shall please to lay his crosses on us, but to welcome them as badges and tokens of his fa­vour; and when they most torment us, to say with Iob, Though thou kill mee, yet will I put my trust in thee. Iob 13.15. The sacrifice of teares which wee shall offer to this innocent Herse, is [Page 24]to bee lessened, if it exceede the mea­sure of affection and nature; the o­verplus is redundancie and superflu­ous, and must bee cut off, or wee are not wise: excesse of griefe for evils remedilesse, hath more affinity with stubbornesse, than use or profit; it may shorten ours, not recover her life, that is heere the sad spectacle of mortality. Facilius nos dolor illiadjiciet, quàm illam nobis. Vnquietnesse and disturbance do ingeminate, and dou­ble the weight of griefe, not lessen it. Shall wee punish our selves, because God hath punisht us, I may rather say blest us? for this blessed childe is not lost but preferr'd, her soule hath exchang'd a house of clay for a king­dome of glory, and having broken prison, hath left an unquiet habitati­on, to enjoy a perpetuity of rest; shee is gone thither, where the Sun shall not burne her by day, nor the Moon by night, nor lying slanderer shall blemish her unspotted cleannesse, nor base calumny make the truth of her worth questionable. She needs [Page 25]not feare such enemies, who with damnable plots & falsities invade the fortunes, (if they can) the lives of in­nocents; her happinesse hath removed her from their reach. No cunning Courtier can make crimes, and beg her forfeited patrimony, forraine prepara­tions, and the danger of invasion comes not neere her thoughts; nor earthly villany, nor vexation, can dis­quiet her happinesse, shee prayes for ours▪ she is now there blessedly arrived, whence nothing can force her, nothing can feare her. Why then doe the ho­nourable parents of this happy soule mourne so excessively? Can they think to call her back againe? If they could, I presume they would not, from this state of blisse. If she were dead, and imprison'd in the cold earth, it might something trouble them; but now they know she lives, & triumphs in heaven, shall they not rejoyce? Immaturè mo­ritur senex, ma­turè puer. Fulg▪ Epist. If we love our children, we desire their happinesse; and can they have greater than to be in heaven? and shall wee grieve because they have it sooner? Bis dat, qui citò [Page 26]dat, a quick and hasty giver augments the valew of his benefit, whereas tar­dy blessings are lessened by their stay. Is it not written, Iob. 1.21. [...] that the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh? and shall I grieve because he calleth for his owne? for, to speak properly, shee was lent to us, not bestowed upon us. Vnwil­lingnesse to pay a debt, lent without in­terest, argues an unthankefull disposi­tion. God might have sent his mes­senger Death to receive tribute from us, let us be thankfull that hee did not, and not grieve that hee demanded it there, where it might bee more easily paid. The thought of this may some­thing moderate our impatience, what we had in her was delicate, and sweet; what we lost, fraile and mortall: judge how unreasonable it is extreamly to be mou'd that we enjoi'd her not long, and not to rejoyce that once wee had her: we should rather be thankefull for the donation of her, than be sorrowfull for her losse; for the one argues our love to God, the other to our selves. Let us weigh onewith the other, and [Page 27]we disfavour our selves, if the state of our joyes doth not equally poise that of our griefe. God, that meant not to lend us her longer, gave her suddainly that perfection, which others before a long time doe not owne; she had that sweetnesse in the bud, in the Aprill of her age, which blossom'd, and well-growne flowers doe seldome affoord.

Such and so frequent are the prece­dents of mortalitie, that we could not thinke she should live ever. If the care of our safetie had not this last Summer hurried us from the citie of affliction, we might have seene neere five thou­sand such, a weeke. Tota vita, Seneca. sayes the Philosopher, nihil aliud est quam ad mortem iter: Tis then a kind of impu­dence, and unjustnes of claime, to chal­lenge that unto our selves which is denied to all. and in this universall necessitie of death to desire a dispensa­tion for us, and ours; as if, when wee knew a universall floud of destruction should over-streame the whole world, we should hope our houses might bee exempted. Let the thought of this be [Page 28]our comfort, she hath but pledg'd that cup, which all our ancestors began un­to her, and at last we that are here pre­sent must taste of the same. Chrys. in Mat. hom. 35. Etsi senex aliquis, etsi adolescens sit, morti tamen in qualibet aetate vicinus. All must die, God set this period to her daies, else she had liv'd; and why should wee bee against the ordinance of the most highest? Ecclus. 41.4. Since she is irrevocably gone, why should you so violently desire her? But such is the nature of us, that we love nothing so much as that which is remov'd from us, never to be had againe; nay, wee lesse esteeme those that survive, through the inor­dinate desire of them that are dead. It would mitigate, if we would but con­sider Gods mercy in his punishments, his Manna in the desert of our affli­ction. Bern. de trans. Mal. Pium est defunctum plangere, ma­gis pium congaudere viventi. Have you not many surviving comforts for one single losse, friends of as great emi­nencie and place, as much grac'd and favour'd by their King, lov'd by their country, as ever subjects were? Have [Page 29]you not a large series, and catalogue of the Nobilitie your kindred? and two daughters yet alive? Pereat contrista­tio, ubi est tanta consolatio: Aug. de verb. Dom. serm. 35. forget your sadnesse in the midst of such joyes.

But will yet yet grieve? cannot these consolations dry up the fountaine of your teares? suppose her to bee onely absent, that will helpe: for we do not grieve for those which are absent, and must continue, if we know they live; with that opinion you may couzen your griefe, and be fafe. But, make the worst of it, shee is but sent before, you must follow. Aug de verb. Dom. serm. 34. Scias eam non in aeternum relinquere te mansurum, sedpraecedere secuturum.

But you will say, she was my onely joy, my only delight. This argues you lov'd your selfe, not your childe. If for her sake you wish her life, then wish her there, where her life shall be longest and happiest. If God should take our children in the midst of their sinnes, then it might justly moove us; teares would then become our cheeks, whereas now they are inexcusable. The [Page 30]tearing of our haire, the rending of our garments, the beating of our hearts, the lamentations & outcryes of our voices cannot awake her: sleep she wil, til the Trump at the last day, Aug de verb Dom. serm. 44. or Christ call her Mortua est, quantumlibet pulses, quantū ­libet vellices, quantumlibet lanies, non ex­pergiscetur; Christo dormit, cum dicet sur­ge, surget. Impatience is a crime, when Gods hand occasions the accident. Vn­dutifull murmuring may incense him, and for our sins perhaps he wil take a­way the rest of our children, who for his owne pleasure, and their good re­mov'd the first. When God is angry, and smites thee on the right cheeke, with patience submit thy selfe to his pleasure, and turne to him the other also. If servants (by S. Pauls injuncti­on) may not expostulate with their Masters, shall the clay aske the Potter why hee did thus? Take heed of la­mentations, and waywardnesse, lest, as mothers doe their children, God whip you so much the more for it. Iesus the sonne of Syrach pronounceth a woe a­gainst them, that have lost their pati­ence, [Page 31]and by way of interrogation tels them in what a miserable plight they are: Ecclus. 2.15. What will yee do when the Lord shal visite you? And Iesus the sonne of God pronounceth, I may say gives a bles­sing to the patient, an inheritance of joy and comfort: Luk. 21.19. By your patience pos­sesse your soules. Will you have an ex­ample to move you? He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheepe before the sheerer is hee dumb, so ope­ned he not his mouth. Nay, Ile come home to you, and instance in the same kindes. When Anaxagoras heard of the death of his owne sonne, without fainting, or vaine exclamations against the Destinies for their cruelty, he said, Scio me mortalem genuisse, I know the issue of my bodie could not bee im­mortall. Livia lost her sonne Drusus, a yongue Prince of admirable worth; no mother could exceed her lamentati­ons for the death of a childe, Nec plus do­luit quam aue honestū erat, aut Caesare, aut aequo ma­ius. Sen. ad Mar. yet in the same grave with him she intombd her sorrowes, neither afterward was shee more troubled, than became a Caesarean and discretion: and without teares af­terwards [Page 32]she could repeate his vertues, his excellencies, and those did best please her that did most remember him. As no man went beyond Sylla in cruelty, so not in the love of a son; yet the sad story of his fatall end was almost as soone forgotten, as related. But what neede I goe for a precedent beyond my Text. Now the childe is dead, why should I fast? saies as tender, as loving a father, as the Scripture can shew us. But some there are more stoically obstinate, than wisely coura­gious, Aug. de verb. Dom. serm. 35. which barre a discreet man from the least impression of griefe Po­test non dolere cor humanum defuncto charissimo, melius tamen dolet, & sana­tur cor humanum, quùm non dolendo sit inhumanum. I will easily beleeve, that such men were never owners of a jewell of this prize, or if they were, so they are still; otherwise the losse would have humbled their hauty con­fidence, and have forc'd a confession of what they deny. Reason hath done her part, if she hath cut off and defal­cated the luxuriancy, and over-plus of [Page 33]griefe; in great detriments 'tis stupidi­tie and dulnesse, not to lament at all; as the excesse is madnesse, the meane is safest, and will gaine you the opinion of a discreet, and well-tempered mour­ner. Permittantur ita (que) pia corda cha­rorum de mortibus suorum contristari dolore sanabili et consolabiles lachrymas fundant conditione mortali,Aug. de verb. Dom. serm. 34.quas citòre­primat fidei gaudium, quâ credunt fide­les quando moriuntur paululùm à nobis abire, & ad meliora transire. I will al­low that the floud-gates of your eyes may be open, but not too wide, nor too long; and I will give you leave to sigh from the bottome of your hearts, but not too often, nor too much. No man shall perswade mee but they are Gods children which silently suf­fer, and with patience endure his cor­rection, humbly, and contentedly sub­mitting themselves to the wisedome of his proceedings. Especially in this case, when that, which we take to be a punishment, is a blessing; for they that dye in the Lord (as Saint Bernard saies) ab omni peccato, & labore, & periculo li­berantur, [Page 34]are freed from all sinne, Bern. de trans. Mal. la­bour, and danger of either; but these, that survive, are not, and at last must dye. And so I come to Davids medi­tation on his owne mortality, ‘I shall goe to him.’

Turne over the whole booke of na­ture, Pars quarta. and you shall read mortality in e­very page, every character is written in dust, and the hand of Time wipes it out, & sooner in this later & decrepit age of the world, than heretofore. We cannot now say with Iacob, The daies of the yeares of our Pilgrimage are 130 yeares; Gen. 47.9. but we may conclude with him, Few and evill are the yeares of our life; we have not attained unto the dayes of the yeares of the life of our Fathers in the dayes of their Pilgri­mage. When first wee begin to live, we begin to dye. [...]or. Nascentes morimur, or (to use Saint Ambrose his words, which excellently expresse our condi­tion) Vitae hujus principium, mortis exordium, Amb. l. 8. de voc. Gent.nec augeri [...]jus, quam minui [Page 35]incipimus. If death make a thrust at us, we have no defence; if she assault us, we cannot finde a place of security to protect us. ‘Ille licet ferro ca [...]tus se condat, & are: Mors tamen inclusum protrahet inde caput.’ Whither can we go from the presence of death? take wee the wings of the morning, and flye whither wee will, wheresoever we settle our selves under heaven, she will be sure to finde us out. And as she is unavoideable, so is shee unpartiall: 'tis not greatnesse, nor height of place that can priviledge a­ny man from her attempts. The Scrip­ture cals Kings gods of the earth, but, least they should flatter themselves with the hope of immortality, it im­mediately followes, They shall dye like men. Could any get a Patent for eternity, these are they; but a late ex­ample fresh still in our memories, tells us they have it not. Where are the great Commanders of the world? where are the Rulers over thousands, and 10000, the Princes & Potentates of the earth? [Page 36]are they not dead? Goe search the grave, and you shall bee no more able to distinguish betwixt their dust, and the meanest beggers, than Diogenes was to finde Phillip the King of Ma­cedons bones. Intervallis distinguimur, exituaequamur. Life makes a difference betwixt us, death none, neyther in the meanes of dissolution, nor the ruines after; shee can make a weapon of the least of the unlikeliest of things to de­stroy them, a needle, a fish-bone, a ray­sin-stone is sufficient; nay, two great Princes, one of India, the other of Rome, were slaine by a hayre. A great Duke of Brittanny was prest to death in a throng. Aemilus Lepidus, and Au­fidius, great Romanes, died with a stum­ble, the one at his owne threshell, the o­ther at the senate house. Etiā cibus & po­tus, & sine quibus vivere non possumus, mortifera sunt, Mors aequo pede, &c. Hor. & no lesse to them than us. She doth as wel besiege the palace of the King, as the cottage of the Beggar: as they have the same sun, the same cly­mate, the same seasons with us, so have they the same infirmities, the same a­ges, [Page 37]and not unequall deaths: If there be odds, the advantage many times lyes on our sides. If travell, or gold, or watchings, or the industry of the best of Physitians, could have given life, this curious peece of mortality had not been yet defac'd. Let this visible argument (a stronger I cannot use) re­ctifie the truth of your frailty. If you desire a confirmation from Gods Word, I can give it. All flesh is grasse, Esa. 40.6. and the glory thereof as the flower of the field. Here is set downe the condi­tion as well of the noblest, as the com­mon sort, their glory fades as a flower, the other dyes like grasse, all meet in the dust.

The causes of the necessitie of death, which are laid upon all men, are three: first, the decree of God, 1 Statutum est omnibus semel mori, which, as the law of the Medes & Persians, is unchangeable.

Secondly, 2 the composition of our flesh, which is of contrarie qualities: their struglings and combustions ne­cessitate diseases, they death.

Thirdly, the sin of our soules, 3 which [Page 38]is the true, Non mors ho­mini accide­ret nisi ex pae­na, quam prae­cesserat culpa. Aug de verb. Dom. serm. 34. Steriles domi­nantur avenae. Virg. reall, and radicall cause.

God in our creation sow'd in our bodies, the good corne, the wholsome graine of health and soundnesse; sinne and disobedience came with an after­cast, and sprinkled tares of sickenesse a­mongst the corne, and they grow up together with it, and in some grounds they prosper so well, that the weede o­vergrowes the corne, and the dayes of sickenesse are more than the dayes of health, and the end of them is death. Gods sentence cannot bee recall'd; a lease for our lives wee may have for a certaine time, but not an absolute par­don. The difference of the elements within us, cannot be compos'd; a truce they make with each other, not a peace. And sinne will not loose the possession of our soules; we may curb her power, but not take it away; wee may sinne lesse, but not not at all: for the best man sinnes seven times a day; Rom. 6.23. and the wa­ges of sinne is death: how soone wee shall receive them, wee are uncertaine. We know not how suddeuly wee are to travell into another countrey, let us [Page 39]therefore bee ever readily furnisht for our journey; let neither youth, delight, nor honour so rake up our thoughts, that wee forget the maine businesse of our life, to dye well. We cannot pleade minoritie, if we are now unprepar'd: wee were of full age long since to sue out the liverie of death; and, if we live untill we are decrepit, our soule is like our bodies, if we thinke not every mi­nute may bee our last. The Poet will give no man above a day, Horace. Iob 7.6. ‘Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremū.’ Iob little, or no time at all. Mans dayes are swifter than a weavers shuttle: Iob 14.2. He commeth forth like a flower, and is cut downe, hee flyeth also like a sha­dow, and continueth not. Let us then so live in these houses of clay, as if we were tenants at will, and might bee thrust out of possession every moment; not as if we could not bee remooved, untill the expiration of ninety nine yeares, or had a lease of three lives in them. The edifice of our mortall selves is not erected upon a rocke, a founda­tion of stone, but on sand, so as when the sea and tide beate, and the winde [Page 40]rageth, it is in danger continually of an utter overthrow. Horace. ‘Quid brevi fortes jaculamur aevo Multa?’ Why then in this uncertainty, doe wee make a preparation, as if wee should live unto the third & fourth generati­on? He is wise that can dislodge at an instant, and when death knockes at his doore, can unaffrightedly let her in, and hath then so dispacht all his affaires, that hee hath nothing to say, but come Lord Iesus, come quickly; nothing to do, but to deliver backe his soule to his Creator. Whereas miserable is his con­dition, who is marrying a wife, or gi­ving in marriage, or banquetting, when the inundation of an unresistable floud is ready to over whelme his unfinisht arke of himselfe. History tells me of a miserable complaint, one made against Death and Destiny, that they should cut him off in the midst of his work, when 'twas halfe finisht; worse is their case who are taken away in the midst of their sins, nay, if it be in the midst of their repentance. ‘Si maneant opera imperfecta, Virg. minae (que) [Page 41]Murorum ingentes.’ If the tabernacle of their hearts be not thorowly finisht, and season'd with re­pentant teares, if they are not perfect­ly and wholely reconciled unto their God. May no agency keepe us from negotiating for our soules health a­gainst the day of death, that with more truth than presumption, we may say with David, we shall goe to her, to that Heaven where shee is, to those Saints and blessed soules, that are her companions, to the Spirit of truth, the Sonne of mercy, the God of glory, who crown'd her with immortality, and infinity of happinesse, to raigne with them for evermore.

Thus have you heard of the sickness of Davids Childe, Application. his behaviour be­fore the death of him, his resolution af­ter it, and his meditation upon it. Of which I must say, Rom. 4.23. as the Apostle doth of Abrahams Iustification: Now it is not written for him only, but for us.

As Davids Childe was sicke, so was this yongue Lady, sicke of a long and lingering sicknesse, but patient and qui­et in her sicknesse, as if shee had not [Page 42]been borne to dye, but suffer: and even at her last gaspe, she carryed such cheerfulnesse in her countenance, as if she had been sensible of the neere­nesse of her glory. Death did not ap­pale her, but the fresh vermillion of her cheekes (had shee been of riper yeares) might have seem'd to wit­nesse a joy for leaving the world so soone. She was of no robustious con­stitution, but of a fabrick and making so delicate, that as in your neatest watches, the Artificer breaks a wheel or two, before he can work one out: so nature was so curious in the work­manship of this Lady, that shee was apt upon the least occasion to bee out of frame. She liv'd to spend her flesh, as if she had thought it too good for the worms. When there was nothing almost left but bones and skin about her, shee desir'd to bee in her nurses armes, as if she had knowne that nee­rer heaven than her bed; and then to be in the cradle, seeming to intimate it best resembled her grave; where presently into the hands of her Savi­our she deliver'd a spotlesse soule. that [Page 43]she was dead, they found, but when, they knew not. Her breath, unobser­ved, stole away, like Noah's Dove out of the Arke; it went forth and came in, it went forth and never returned againe.

Now as Davids Childe was dead, Optima prim fere manibus rapiuntur ava­ris, Implentur nu­meris deterior suis. Ovid. Hor. so is this sweet Lady, and, like the mi­nute she died in, never to be recal'd a­gaine; so have I seene the sweetest flowers cropt in the bud.

Such was her delicacy, that the losse of her would even force a teare from a Barbarians eie. God thought this jewell of too great a price for mans use; he shew'd it to testifie his richnes, and presently tooke it againe for our unworthinesse. She was the finest thread, that ever was spun to make up fraile nature; which time and age would but have sullied and made worse: I never saw flesh and bloud of a purer complexion. Her soule was not blotted nor scribled with blacke and fowle thoughts, her hands were not polluted with any action of evill, [Page 44]shee was never out yet, but like a good Musitian, tuning her pipes, and organs, against shee came to bear her part; her tongue she had put almost three yeares to schoole to learne to speake: and, if I looke into her conditions, I can see, through lesse then three yeares, a most ingenuous, and sweete disposition to­wards: so good, as if she were too good to live to sin, and so God tooke her; she had but that one sinne, we are made of, Originall; towards the expiation of which when shee came first into the world, shee baptized her selfe with her owne teares, and that little remnant of daies shee liu'd, shee did perpetuall pe­nance, and now hath undergone the last, Death.

Now mee thinkes wee should stand all like Belshazzar when hee saw the hand-writing upon the wal; Dan. 5.5. our coun­tenances should be changed, our thoughts troubled, so that the joints of our loines should be loose, & our knees smite against one another to think up­on this harmelesse innocent, that here hath suffered for one sinne, and that sin none of her owne; to thinke now that [Page 45]tis we that are dead, and yet shee is to be buried. The multiplication of our yeares, hath been but an increase of the reckoning, wee must make for sinne, and runs us further stil upon the score. Wee have put off our innocencie long since with our infancie, the elder wee grow the worse we are, as our first pa­rents were in their clothes of figge-leaves. It may grieve us to see the happy estate we have outliv'd, and put us in minde of the fitnesse of a repara­tion. We may live untill we are old, and old men are twice children, but this last is a childishnesse of impoten­cie, not of innocencie; of such was this Ladie, M^rs; of whom I cannot speake the full truth, but that I make an argu­ment against mine owne purpose, which is to settle Davids resolution in you to beare this losse with patience.

As David then resolv'd when his child was dead, to fast no more, so let us to weep no more; let his reason be ours, tis a good one, We cannot bring her back againe. Me thinks the thought of this should allay the impetuousness of our sorrow, that it doth not profit her, [Page 46]whose life we desire, but hurts ours. If griefe could doe her good, every night I would wash my bed with weeping, and wish my head a fountaine of wa­ter; nay, had I but one teare to spend after those for my sinnes, shee should have it. But Seneca, a meere Heathen, hath taught mee to hate unprofitable griefe; Quae amentia est poenas à se in­foelicitatis suae exigere & mala sua au­gere? what madnesse is it to revenge my crosses on my selfe, & wilfully to aug­ment my griefe? Is not my sorrow weightie enough, but with a fresh sup­ply of teares I must encrease the bur­then of it? But why so violent now? you could not but perceive long since that thus it would be. Could you ima­gine that such perfection could be of continuance? Things sublimated of a superusuall goodnesse, take a suddaine flight from us. The brightnesse of the fire argues a vicinitie to extinction; it is of longer durance, when it feeds on dull & grosse matter, as it is lesse quick and agile; so children the more for­ward & spritely they are, the lesse hope they give me of a long life. But that [Page 47]which wee grieve for in this Lady, is her blessing: we toyle & are full of sor­rowes, and must dye; but shee doth rest from all labour, without which with the Saducees you will denie a resurre­ction. Cesset igitur dolor compassionis, ubi oritur fides resurrectionis. I would not have you ignorant brethren con­cerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope; for if we beleeved that Christ Iesus died, and rose againe, Thes. 4.13.14. even so all those which sleepe in Christ, will the Lord bring with him. Could this yong Lady speak, she would bid us not weep for her, but for our selves: for shee is not dead, but, Matt. 9.24. like the maid in the Ru­lers house, she sleepeth. Therefore com­fort your hearts, drive sorrow far from them: for sorrow hath slaine many, & there is no profit therin, Ecclus. 30.33. saith Iesus the son of Sirach. Let us not for the grea­test losse grieve too much, lest we make our friends grieve for the losse of us: for through immoderate sorrow death can finde an easie passage to destroy us. And now to end with my Text, let us with David from hence take up a me­ditation [Page 48]of our own mortalitie, let us think on death, but not occasion it. let us assure our selves that wee shall go to her: but let us not through immoderate griefe send our selves before God calls us, lest we dispossesse our selves of the place where she is. Let every occasion be a memorandum of our mortality. I like the custome of the Egyptians, who at their festivals and times of mirth, had ever at the last course a deaths-head seru'd in, which was a silent insinuati­on of the frailty of their nature. A fre­quent iteration of this would make us understād ourselves better than we do. O may the God of light unseal our eies, & make us see and know how subject we are to die▪ good God imprint in our memories the thought of death, bestow on our harts a preparatiō to welcom it, grant that with Iob we may wait al the daies of our appointed time, untill the Son of righteousness appear, & then be exalted into an everlasting mansion in heaven, there to raign with him for e­vermore. To whom with the Father & the holy Ghost, be ascribed all power, &c. Amen.