An elegy on the much-lamented death of that late reverend and most learned divine, Dr. William Bates, minister of the gospel at Hackney, who departed this life on Friday the 14th of July, 1699. in the seventy third year of his age.

An elegy on the much-lamented death of that late reverend and most learned divine, Dr. William Bates, minister of the gospel at Hackney, who departed this life on Friday the 14th of July, 1699. in the seventy third year of his age.

Table of contents

AN ELEGY On the much-lamented Death of that late Reverend and most Learned Divine, Dr. WILLIAM BATES, Minister of the Gospel at Hackney, who departed this Life on Friday the 14th of July, 1699. in the Seventy Third Year of his Age.

The EPITAPH.

§

[Page]

AN ELEGY On the much-lamented Death of that late Reverend and most Learned Divine, Dr. WILLIAM BATES, Minister of the Gospel at Hackney, who departed this Life on Friday the 14th of July, 1699. in the Seventy Third Year of his Age.

FLouds follow Flouds, Waves after Waves arise:

Scarce had I drain'd the Fountain of mine Eyes,

But here's a sadder Stroke calls for a Sea

Of flowing Tears: Rivers too few will be.

Had I an Ocean, ev'ry drop I'd spend,

And weep until that Ocean had an end.

But is he dead, Great BATES of fam'd Renown?

The Nonconformist's (nay, all England's) Crown,

Who Lov'd and was Belov'd by all, but those

Who are God's, and his Servant's, bitter Foes:

That Hellish Crew, that hate most them that wear

God's Liv'ry, and his Sacred Image bear.

Great Loss indeed! Sad Stroke that may portend,

(I fear,) some sorer Judgment in the end.

For oftentimes the Sin-revenging God

Takes his best Saints, that he may use his Rod

The more severe. The Loss who can express?

Or what Tongue tell the consequent Distress?

Sure that House must be weak, whose chiefest stay,

Whose prop, whose only Basis sinks away:

That Ship must certainly be dash'd at last,

Whose trusty Anchor's gone, and whose Main-mast

Is beaten down. Not but some Pi [...]lars still

Are left; and as it is Jehovah's will,

There are some Anchors that are yet behind,

To keep the Ship, tho' tossed with the wind.

But now they go so fast, I fear e're long;

(If God does not prevent) they'll all be gone.

God has remov'd a Pillar, 'twas too good;

Such fine-wrought curious Marble too long stood

In this Thatch't Cottage, this poor House of Clay,

The Heavenly Builder took him hence away,

That he might place him in his Palace; here

He did but polish him to fix him there.

He's there, now seen by those discerning eyes

That know his inward Worth alone to prize.

How they rejoyce to see him mount the wing!

Th' Angelick Chorus meet him, and they sing

For joy, whilst they attend him through the Sky,

And mounts his Soul far above Galaxy;

Through first and second Heavens, till they place

Him in the third, before Jehovah's Face.

Where his lov'd God, Dear Jesus, Holy Ghost,

Cherubs, and Seraphs, all the Heav'nly Host

Of Blessed Angels, and those Saints which be

Clad with the Glory of Eternity

Do welcom him unto their Blessed throng,

And now begin to teach him the Lambs Song

Of life. His Soul crown'd now with Heavenly Bays

Invested with it's bright transplendant Rays

Falls in with them to sing his Saviours praise.

And here his ravisht Soul (which adds yet more)

Meets with those Blessed Saints that went before.

That labour'd with him in God's Holy Word,

And pray'd, and suffer'd with him for their Lord.

Such as great BAXTER, whose exceeding worth

(Now BATES is dead,) no tongue can e're set forth

O how do they each other now embrace!

Rejoycing there to see each other's Face.

And Holy ROSEWELL too, whose lasting Name

Is carry'd far above the Wings of Fame;

That Heaven-born Soul a bright and splendid Star,

That's shining now in Heaven's Bright Hemisphere.

Whose Love unto his God, and for his sake

The Suff'rings that he underwent, did make

Him dear to pious BATES, and to all those

That Love their God, and Hate his wicked Foes.

O how do they rejoyce to meet and see

Each other safe, at Peace, and Ease, and free

From Bodily Pains, and from the Treachery

Of wicked Men.

Then Holy ANNESLEY, VINCENT, and the rest,

Whose Worth and Learning cannot be exprest.

Oh how do they each other there embrace!

Rejoycing there to see each other's Face,

And all safe landed in the Heav'nly Place.

It's there he's gone, and therefore 'tis not he

That has the Loss; No, no! 'Tis only we.

He's only gone to that Celestial Quire,

Which fill'd his Prayers, his Heart, his whole Desire.

He's only gone where all his Pains do end,

The Stone, the Gout, the Cholick, which did rend

His Body here. Our Souls have lost a Friend.

O Hackney, London, England, all bemoan,

It is a Loss concerns us every one.

A Soul-Physician's gone that could secure

The Health of Souls, that could and would make sure

Eternal Life to those that would but hear,

And to his sweet Entreaties lend an Ear.

How powerfully did he the Word Dispence?

With what Divine and Charming Eloquence?

With how great Love, how tender did he speak?

Enough to make the Sinners Heart to break.

Methinks I hear him still, utt'ring that Voice

That made the Sinner fear, the Saint rejoyce.

And Oh his Written Works, they'll praise him still,

Present admire them, Future Ages will;

'Tis Rhetorick Divine, which does them fill.

For he our English CICERO was, who dare

With him for Sacred Rhetorick compare?

PERFECT in that he surely was most fit,

To show PERFECTION as in SCRIPTURE writ.

Which when he finish'd, God did him translate,

And make him PERFECT in a PERFECT State.

Where now experimentally he knows

The PERFECTNESS of all that SCRIPTURE shows.

The EPITAPH.

STay, Reader, stand, and spend a Tear;

But haste, lest thou should'st make

(By too much pondering who lies here)

Thy very Heart to break.

Here lies great BATES most Eloquent,

A CICERO and a PAUL;

A Preacher too most prevalent,

One that had in him all.

Most Learned, Wise, and of such Worth,

There is not left behind

A Tongue that's fit to set it forth.

His Equal who can find?

If he could dye; who then can save,

Who can presume to keep

The most accompliish'd from the Grave,

Where all Mankind must sleep?

FINIS.

§

§

London: Printed, and Sold by A. Baldwin, 1699.

Information about this book

Title statement

An elegy on the much-lamented death of that late reverend and most learned divine, Dr. William Bates, minister of the gospel at Hackney, who departed this life on Friday the 14th of July, 1699. in the seventy third year of his age.

Edition statement

1699

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

B03237

ID [STC]

Wing E428

ID [STC]

Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.2[210]

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99886973

ID [PROQUEST]

ocm99886973

ID [VID]

181534

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Early English books online.

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B03237)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 181534)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A1:1[213])

Source

— An elegy on the much-lamented death of that late reverend and most learned divine, Dr. William Bates, minister of the gospel at Hackney, who departed this life on Friday the 14th of July, 1699. in the seventy third year of his age.,

Extent

1 sheet ([1] p.).

printed and sold by A[bigail]. Baldwin,. London: :: 1699.. (Verse: "Flouds follow flouds, waves after waves arise:".) (Printer's name from Wing CD-ROM, 1996.) (Within mourning borders.) (Reproduction of original in the British Library.)

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