THE first Step to Happiness is to correct our false Opinions; and to learn to esteem every thing accor­ding to that Rate and Value, not which the World, or our own mistaken Imagi­nations may have plac'd upon it, but which in [Page 2] it self, and in the accounts of right Reason and Religion it really bears.

The Wise Hebrew therefore has, in this Cha­pter, lay'd together a Sett of Religious Para­doxes; which however they may startle aud shock us a little upon the first hearing, yet when closely examin'd, will appear to be very serious and weighty Truths; and such, by which the whole course of our Lives ought to be steer'd and govern'd.

In the first Verse of this Chapter (the Verse before the Text) he tells us, that a Good Name is better than precious Oyntment, and the day of ones Death, than the day of ones Birth. A Good Name is better than precious Oyntment; i. e. rich Oyls, and sweet Odors, (in the use of which those Eastern Countries mightily delighted) are not half so grateful, or valuable, as a good Reputation, well founded: This is more truly fragrant, more diffusive of its influence, more durable: it gives a man greater comfort and refreshment, while Living; and preserves him better, when Dead, than the most precious Embalmings.

[Page 3] And agen, The day of ones Death is bet­ter than the day of ones Birth; i. e. the day of the Death of such an one, as has, and de­serves a Good Name; of such an one, as has liv'd well, and dy'd well, is preferable by far to the day of his Birth: for it enters him upon a State of perfect rest and tran­quility, of undisturb'd joy and happiness; whereas the Day of his Birth was only an In­let into a troublesome World, and the begin­ning of sorrows.

And then it follows, very naturally, in the words of the Text, that It is better [also] to go to the to House of Mourning, than to go to the House of Feasting: as Death to a Good man is more advantageous than Life, so to a Wise man the Contemplation of the one is more desirable than all the Enjoyments of the o­ther. He had much rather be present at the sad Solemnities of a Funeral, than partake of those Festival Rejoycings, which are usual in all Nations, but especially among the Iews, at the Birth of a Child.

Hard Doctrine this, to the Men of Liber­ty and Pleasure! who have said to them­selves, Come on, let us enjoy the things that [Page 4] are present, let us fill our selves with costly Wine and Oyntments, and let no Flower of the Spring pass by us: let us crown our selves with Rosebuds before they be wither'd! Hard Doctrine, I say, it is to such men as These; and which will run the hazard of not be­ing entertain'd by 'em. The Wise man therefore has condescended to prove as well as assert it, and to back the severe Rule he has lay'd down with very convincing Reasons: for that, says he, is the End of all men, and the Living will lay it to heart. As if he had said, This Dark and Melancholly State it will one day certainly come to our share to try; and what must some time or other be undergone, ought now and then to be consider'd beforehand: this is the End of all men, and all men therefore should have their Eye and their Thoughts upon it. And then further, We are most of us so immers'd in the Pleasures, and taken up with the Fol­lies of Life, that we need all methods of reducing our straggling Thoughts and De­sires, and of giving our selves a Serious Frame and Composure of Mind: and of all Methods, this of repairing to the House of [Page 5] Mourning is best adapted to that Good End, and will soonest and most effectually bring it about: The Living will lay it to Heart.

I have largely explain'd the Connexion and Meaning of the Words, which have been pitch'd upon to imploy Your Thoughts on this mournful Occasion. The next thing should be to excite You to a Complyance with the Direction there given, by the parti­cular Arguments of the Text, and by several other powerful and moving Considerations: to prove to you the Folly and Emptiness of a Life led all in Mirth and Jollity and Plea­sure; the Wisdom and Reasonableness of shifting the Scene sometimes, and of tur­ning the Gloomy side of things towards us; in a word, of exchanging the House of Feasting for the House of Mourning, and of making a discreet and decent use of those sad Opportunities of Reflection, which God, mercifully severe, is pleas'd to put into our hands.

But I am prevented in this part of my Discourse by the Pious Design of this Meet­ing: You are already doing that thing [Page 6] which I should recommend to You from the Text, paying the Tribute of Your Tears to the Memory of One, whose Worth You knew, and whose Want you feel; and be­wailing the Loss of Her, under the different Characters She bore of a Wife, a Daughter, a Relation, a Mistress, a Friend.

All therefore I have to do on this occa­sion, is, to fall in with Your Pious Grief al­ready rais'd, and to bear a part in it, by dwelling together with You a while on the Character of that Incomparable Lady, whose Death we lament; by uniting, as well as I am able, the scattered parts of it, and re­calling to Your Thoughts at once the seve­ral Excellencies and Perfections of which it was compos'd: which made her belov'd and reverenc'd by You while Living, and will make her Memory ever Dear and Desirable to You, now She is Dead; and which rais'd her above the greatest part of her Sex, much more than any Outward Marks of Rank and Distinction.

'Tis now, after her Decease a fit time to speak of her in those Terms of Respect which she deserv'd: for in her Life-time she [Page 7] would not bear it, and took pains to avoid it; hiding as many of her Virtues as she could from Publick Observation, and so be­having her self in the practice of those She could not hide, as shew'd She had no mind to be told of 'em: discountenancing, as far as lay in her power, that odious and designing Flattery, which Custome has now made a kind of Debt from Persons of one Sex to those of the other, and almost a necessary part of good Breeding.

But the Dead may be prais'd with De­cency, tho' the Living hardly can: especially Such of the Dead, as have not probably a greater indifference and unconcern for what we say to their advantage now they are Dead, than they had heretofore while they were Living.

There is a Publick Homage due to De­sert, if we take a proper Season of paying it; and the Ministers of the Gospel, who are entrusted with so many Methods of pro­moting Piety in the World, are entrusted with this among the rest, the giving Ho­nour where Honour is due; and the provoking the Imitation of Men, by setting before 'em [Page 8] shining Patterns of Virtue, as well as the inculcating good Rules and Precepts of Life: 'tis their immediate and particular Employ­ment to Praise God; and it does, no doubt, in some measure also belong to 'em, to praise those that are Like him.

And now how shall I enter upon this fruitful Argument? What Particular of her comprehensive Character shall I first choose to insist on? Let us determine our selves to begin there where She always began, at her Devotions. In These She was very Punctual and Regular: Morning and Even­ning came not up more constantly in their Course, than Her stated Hours of Private Prayer; which She observ'd not formally, as a Task, but return'd to 'em always with desire, delight, and eagerness. She would on no occasion dispense with her self from paying this Duty; no Business, no Accident could divert her from it; She esteem'd it her great Honour and Happiness, to attend upon God; and she resolved to find Leisure for That, for whatever else She might want it.

[Page 9] How She behav'd her self in these Secret Transactions between God and her own Soul, is known to Him alone whom She worship'd: but if we may guess at her Privacies, by what we saw of Her in Publick, we may be sure She was all Humility▪ Devotion, and Fervency; for so She remarkably was al­ways, during the time of Divine Service. Her Behaviour was then the most devout and solemn, and yet the most decent, and natural, and unaffected that could be; there was nothing in it either negligent and loose, or evtravagant and strain'd: but all was full of attention and composedness; it was throughout such as declar'd it self not to be the work of the Passions, but to flow from the Understanding, and from a thorough knowledge of the true Grounds and Principles of that her Reasonable Service.

This Knowledge She attain'd by early In­structions, by much Reading, and Medita­tion, (to which She appear'd from her In­fancy to be very particularly addicted) and, give me leave to add, by a very diligent and exact attendance on the Lessons of Pie­ty which were utter'd from the Pulpit; [Page 10] which no one practis'd better, becaure no one delighted in, listen'd to, or consider'd more. For at these Performances She was all Attention, all Ear; She kept her Heart fix'd and bent to its holy Work, by keeping her Eye from Wandring.

It was her misfortune indeed, that the Exemplariness of her Behaviour call'd off the Eyes of several to observe it; but more Her and Their misfortune, that when they had seen it, and satisfied their Curiosity, they did not go on also to imitate it. She often expressed her dissatisfaction at that In­decency of Carriage which universally pre­vails in our Churches; and wonder'd that They should be most careless of their Be­haviour towards God, who are most scru­pulously nice in exacting and paying all the little Decencies that are in use among Men.

When the Bread of Life was distributed, She was sure to be there, a devout and never failing Communicant; and the strict­ness of her Attention, and the reverence of her Behaviour, were, if it were possible, rais'd and improv'd on those occasions: The [Page 11] lively Image of a Crucify'd Saviour then ex­hibited, could not but make very moving impressions on a mind of so much pious Warmth and Tenderness.

Books She took pleasure in, and made good use of; chiefly Books of Divinity, and Devotion; which She studied and re­lish'd above all others. History too had very often a share in her reflections; and sometimes She look'd into pieces of pure Diversion and Amusement; whenever She found 'em written in such a way, as to be Innocent, as well as Entertaining. I need not tell You, to how narrow a choice She was, by this means, confin'd.

But of all Books, the Book of God was That, in which She was most delighted and employ'd; and which was never, for any considerable time, out of her hands. No doubt She knew and felt the great use and sweet influence of it in calming her mind, and regulating her desires, and lifting up her thoughts towards Heaven; in feeding and fanning that holy Flame, which the Love of God had kindled in her Heart, and [Page 12] which She took care, by this means, to keep perpetually burning.

When She met with any thing in her Reading, there or elsewhere, which would be of remarkable use to her in the conduct of her Life and Affairs, She trusted not her Memory with it; not even that excellent Memory, which She safely trusted with eve­ry thing besides: but immediately commit­ted it to Writing. Many Observations of this kind She has left, drawn from good Authors, but chiefly from those Sacred Pa­ges; and in collecting which, whether her Judgment or her Piety had the largest share, it is not easie to say.

The Passages of Holy Writ which She took notice of were indeed commonly such as related either to the Concerns of her Spi­ritual Estate, or to Matters of Prudence: but it appears also that She spent some time in mediating on those places where the sublimest Points of Christian Doctrine are contain'd▪ and in possessing her self with a deep sense of the wonderful Love of God towards us, manifested in the mysteri­ous [Page 13] Work of our Redemption: for She had something more than what in the Language of this Loose Age is call'd, a Lady's Religion. She endeavour'd to understand the great Ar­ticles of our holy Faith, as well as to Pra­ctise the good Rules of it; and She sensibly found, that the best way to excite her self to the practise of the one, was to endeavour to understand the other.

And this Book of God She was more particularly conversant in, on God's day; a Day ever sacred to Her, and which there­fore wore always in Her Family a Face of Devotion suitable to the Dignity of it. It was truly a day of Rest to all under her Roof: her Servants were then dismiss'd from a good part of their attendance upon Her, that they might be at liberty to attend on their great Lord and Master, whom both She and They were equally bound to obey. There was such a Silence and Solemnity at that time observ'd by all about her, as might have become the House of Mourning; and yet so much Ease and Serenity visible in their Looks (at least in Her Looks there was) as shew'd, that They who were in [Page 16] quick and sensible concern at any thing, which She thought it did not become either Her to hear, or others to say.

True Piety, which in great measure con­sists in an Humility and Submission of mind towards God, is attended always with Hu­mility and Goodness also towards his Crea­tures; and so it was in this Excellent Lady. Never was there a more deep, and unfeign'd, and artless Lowliness of Mind seen in her Rank and Station: as far as she was placed above the Most of the World, yet She convers'd as it were upon the level with All of 'em: and yet when She stoop'd the lowest towards them, She took care, even at that time, to pre­serve the Respect that was due to her from them. She had so much true Merit, that She was not afraid of being look'd into, and therefore durst be familiar: and the worst effect of that familiarity was, that She was better known by it, and by con­sequence more lov'd and valu'd. Not on­ly No one of her Inferiors ever came un­easie from her, (as has been said of some Great ones) but so assur'd were all before­hand [Page 17] of her sweetness of Temper, and obli­ging reception, that no one ever went un­easie to her: When She open'd her Lips, Gracious Words always proceeded from thence, and in her Tongue was the Law of Kindness. Her Reservedness and Love of Privacy might possibly be misinterpreted some­times, for an Overvalue of her self, by those who did not know her; but the least de­gree of Acquaintance made all those Suspi­cions vanish. For tho' her Perfections both of Body and Mind were very extraordi­nary, yet She was the only Person in the World that seem'd, without any endeavour to seem, insensible of 'em. She was, 'tis true, in as much danger of being Vain, as great Beauty, and a good natural Wit could make her: but she had such an over­ballance of Discretion, that She was never in pain to have the one seen, or the other heard. Indeed This was particular to her, and a very distinguishing part of her Cha­racter, that She never studied appearances, nor made any advances towards the Opi­nion of the World; being contented to be whatever was good or Deserving, without [Page 18] endeavouring in the least to be thought so: and this, not out of any affected disregard to Publick Esteem, but meerly from a Mo­desty and Easiness of Nature, which made her give way to others, who were more willing to be observ'd. And yet She had also her Hours of Openness and Free­dom, when her Soul eas'd it self to Fa­miliars and Friends; and then out of the good Treasure of her Heart what good things did She bring forth? Her Mouth was at such times, in the Comparison of Solomon, a Well of Life, which ever sent forth such pure and sweet Streams, as pleas'd the Sen­ses, and refresh'd the Hearts of all that drank at 'em. So that a doubt it is, which was most to be admir'd in her, what She did, or what She did not say: It was wonderful that One, who, when She pleas'd, could discourse so fitly and so free­ly, should yet choose to be silent on so many occasions; it was as wonderful, that She, who was so often silent, should, when­ever She spake, charm all that heard her.

[Page 19] We may be sure, that She, who had such a command over her Tongue, kept no less strict and watchful a Guard upon her Passions; those especially of the Rough and Troublesome kind, with which She was scarce ever seen to be disquieted. She knew not what the Disorders of Anger were, even on occasions that might seem to justifie, and to require it: as much as She hated Vice, She chose rather to look it out of countenance, than to be severe a­gainst it; and to win the Bad over to the side of Vertue by her Example, than by her Rebukes.

Her sweet Deportment toward Those who had the happiness to be with her could be outdone by nothing but her tenderness in relation to the Absent; whom She was sure to think and speak as well of as was possible: and when their Character was plainly such, as could have no good Co­lours put upon it, yet She would shew her dislike of it no otherwise than by saying nothing of 'em. Neither her Good-nature, nor her Religion, her Civility, nor her Prudence, would suffer her to censure any [Page 20] one: She thought, she had enough▪ to do at home, in that way, without look [...]ng much abroad; and therefore turn'd the edge of all her reflections upon her self. Indeed She spar'd others as much as if She had been afraid of 'em, and her self as little, as if She had had many Faults that wanted mending: and yet, 'twas because She knew no great harm of her self, that She could scarce be brought to suspect any in others.

Her Conversation might, for this reason, seem to want somewhat of that Salt and smartness, which the ill-natur'd part of the World are so fond of; a Want, that She could easily have supply'd, would her Prin­ciples have given her leave: but her setled opinion was, that the Good Name of any one was too nice and serious a thing to be play'd with; and that it was a foolish kind of mirth, which, in order to divert some, hurt others. She could never bring her self to think, that the only thing which gave Life and Spirit to discourse, was, to have some-body's Faults the subject of it; or, that the pleasure of a Visit lay, in gi­ving up the Company to one-another's [Page 21] Sport and Malice, by turns. And if These are the chief marks of Wit and Good-breeding, it must be confess'd that She had neither.

With all this Goodness, Gentleness, and Meekness of nature, She had at the same time a degree of Spirit and Firmness, un­usual in her Sex; and was particularly ob­serv'd to have a wonderful Presence of mind in any accident of danger: to shew, that Innocence and Courage are nearly al­ly'd, and that even in the softest Tempers, where the one of these is in perfection, there will and must be a good degree of the o­ther.

Shall I say any thing of that innate Mo­desty of Temper, and spotless Purity of Heart, which shone throughout her whole Life and Conversation? a Quality, so strictly re­quir'd of her Sex, and so generally, I hope, enjoy'd by it, that it may be thought, not so properly commendable in any of 'em to have it, as infamous to want it. However, in the most common and ordinary Graces there are uncommon Heighths and Degrees; and it was the particular happiness of this [Page 22] Wondrous Good Lady Remarkably to excell in every Vertue that belong'd to her; even in those, in which almost every body ex­cells.

Shall I say, that from this love of Puri­ty it was, that She banish'd her self from those Publick Diversions of the Town, which it was scarce possible to be present at, with­out hearing something that wounded chaste Ears; and for which She thought no a­mends could be made to Vertue, by all the Wit and Humour that might go along with it? These Good Qualities, she knew, serv'd only to recommend the Poyson, and make it palatable, and thought it therefore a piece of service to other people, (who might perhaps be influenc'd by Her Exam­ple) to stand off; tho' She her self were secur'd from the Infection. This question­less was One reason of her allowing her self in those dangerous Entertainments so sparingly; but it was but One of Many: She had really neither Relish, nor Leisure for 'em; nor for a thousand other things, which the World miscalls Pleasures. Not that She wanted naturally a Taste for any [Page 23] thing of this kind, for her Apprehension was fine, and her Wit very good, and very ready at Command, whenever ehe pleas'd to exercise it; but She had turn'd her Thoughts so much on things of Use and Importance, that matters of meer Pleasure grew flat and indifferent to her: She was so taken up with the care of improving her under­standing, and bettering her Life, in the dis­charge of the Offices necessary to her Rank, in the Duties of her Closet, and the Con­cerns of her Family, that she found, at the foot of the account, but little time, and less mind, to give in to those vain Amuse­ments.

She did not think it (as, I fear, it is too often thought) the peculiar Happiness and Privilege of the Great, to have nothing to do; but took care to fill every Vacant Mi­nute of her Life with some useful or inno­cent Employment. Indeed none were Va­cant: for the several Hours of the Day had their peculiar business allotted to them, (whe­ther it were Conversation, or Work, Read­ing, or Domestick affairs) each of which came up orderly in its turn; and was, as [Page 24] the Wise-man speaks, (to be sure under Her management it was) beautiful in its Season.

And this Regularity of Hers was free and natural, without Formality or Constraint; it was neither troublesome to Her, nor to those that were with her: when there­fore any accident interven'd, it was left off with as much ease as it was practis'd: for amongst all her discretionary Rules, the chief was, to seem to have none; and to make matters of Form give way always to Cir­cumstances and Occasions.

She wrought with her Own Hands often, when She could more profitably and plea­singly have employ'd her time, in Medita­tion, or Books; but She was willing to set an example to those, who could not; and She took care therefore, that that example should be well follow'd by all that were about her, and whom She had any imme­diate influence over: for She knew very well, that the description of a Good Wife and a Perfect Woman in the Proverbs, (a Description which She much delighted in, and often read) was chiefly taken up in [Page 25] commending that Diligence by which She looketh well to the ways of her Houshold, and eateth not the bread of Idleness: and She knew also, that she, whose words these are said to be, was no less a Woman, than the Mother of King Lemuel.

Diligence, and Frugality are Sisters: and She therefore, we may be sure, who was so well acquainted with the one, was no stran­ger to the other. She was strictly careful of her expences; and yet knew how to be Generous and to abound, when the occa­sion requir'd it. But of all ways of good management, She lik'd That the worst which shuts our hands to the Poor; to whom She was ever very Compassionate and Cha­ritable. To the other delights, with which an high Fortune furnish'd her, She was in­sensible almost; but on This account She valu'd it, that it gave her an opportunity of pursuing the several pleasures of Beneficence, and of tasting all the sweets of well-doing. She deliver'd the Poor that cry'd, and the Fa­therless, and Him that had none to help him: the blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon her, and She caused the Widows [Page 26] heart to sing. Very easie sure will this make her Audit at the great day of ac­count; that Charity will doubtless be al­low'd to be a Skreen to her few Infirmities and Faults, which, when sprinkled by the Blood of Christ, can cover a multitude of Sins.

In the exercise of this, and of all other Vertues, She was wonderfully Secret; endea­vouring to rise up, as near as She could, to the Rule of not letting her right hand know what her left hand did. And this Se­crecy of hers She manag'd so well, that some of the most remarkable Instances of her Goodness were not known, till after her death; no, not by Him, who was partaker of all her Joys and Sorrows.

Retirement and Privacy She always lov'd, and therefore chose it, when, after the Death of a near Relation (an Excellent Person The Old Lady Picke­ring. under whose Care She had been bred) She was at Liberty to have liv'd otherwise. From that Time to her Marriage, which was more than Three Years, She hid her self in the Country; having an early and setled aver­sion to the Noise and Inconveniencies of a [Page 27] Town-life; and too little an opinion of her self, to think, that it was so much the interest of Vertue and Religion as it re­ally was, to have her known and distin­guish'd.

When afterwards She went to Court, (as it was necessary for Her sometimes to do) She did it with an Air, which plainly shew'd, that She went to pay her Duty there, and not to delight her self in the Pomp and Glitter of that place. Had She gone thither soon enough, to see that Good and Glorious Queen, the Ornament of It, and of her Sex, She had been taken, we may presume, into her Intimacy, and into her Bosome; for their Minds were nearly al­ly'd, and their Characters, and Manners, and ways of Life not unlike; allowing for the difference of Stations.

I need not, I cannot well say more of her: and if therefore I have fallen short, in any parts of her Character, (as I am sensible I have in many that I have men­tion'd, and in more that I have left un­touch'd) I desire those particular Defects [Page 28] may be supply'd from this General account of her; that She very much resembl'd Her, who was the Pattern of all that is Good and Amia­ble in Womankind.

Whether She had this excellent Pattern in her Eye, I am not able to say, when, soon after her Marriage, She declar'd to se­veral Friends her thoughts, that Every Wo­man, especially Women of Quality, ought to do as much Good as they could in the World; and that the shortest, and surest way of doing this was, to endeavour by all means to be as good a Christian, and as good a Wife, and as good a Friend as was possible.

She endeavour'd, and she effected it; for She fill'd all Characters that she fell into, and rose up well nigh to all the Obligati­ons that She lay under: She was devout, without Superstition; strict, without Ill-humor; good-natur'd, without Weakness, chearful without Levity; regular, without Affectation. She was to her Husband the best Wife, the most agreeable Companion, and most faithful Friend; to her Servants, the best Mistress; to her Relations, the most [Page 29] respectful; to her Inferiors, the most obli­ging: and by all, that knew her either nearly, or at a distance, She was reckon'd and confess'd to be one of the best of Wo­men.

Solomon indeed, in the Chapter from whence my Text is taken, has a very severe Cen­sure of the Women of His Time and Coun­try: Behold, this have I found, (saith the Preacher) counting One by One, to find out the account; which yet my Soul seeketh, but I find not: One Man among a Thousand have I found, but a Woman among a Thousand have I not found: by which he seems to intimate, as if he had never met with One Good Woman among all the Daughters of Israel. If that be his meaning, I will be bold to say, that, had the Virtuous Lady we la­ment been in his Court, and of his Ac­quaintance, That Passage I read from him had not now been part of Holy Writ: for even Wisdom it self could not but have born witness to the Goodness of her Cha­racter.

[Page 30] And yet all this Goodness, and all this Excellence was bounded within the Com­pass of Eighteen Years, and as many Days: for no longer was She allow'd to live a­mong us. She was snatch'd out of the World as soon almost as She had made her appearance in it; Like a Jewel of high price, just shewn a little, and then put up agen; and We were depriv'd of her by that time We had learnt to value her. But Circles may be compleat, tho' small; the Perfection of life does not consist in the Length of it: if it did, Our Saviour, to be sure, would not have dy'd so soon after Thirty.

Short as her Life was, She had time e­nough in it to adorn the several States of Virginity and Marriage; and to experience the Sadness of a kind of Widowhood too: for such She accounted it, when her Lord was long absent from her; mourn'd as much, and refus'd as much to be comforted, till his Return.

[Page 31] As her Life was short, so her Death was sudden; She was call'd away in haste, and without any warning. One day She droop'd, and the next She dy'd; nor was there ma­ny hours distance between her being very easie in this World, and very happy in ano­ther. It seems, as if God, who had re­solv'd to take her to himself, and to Com­pany more worthy of her, did it hastily on purpose, least, if the account of her Illness had spread far, and lasted long, the Prayers of so many Good Men and Women as had surely been engag'd on her behalf, should have prov'd unsuccessful, their Importunities unavailable. He may be thought unwil­ling, I say, to put such a Discouragement on the United Devotions of his best Saints and Servants; and, in order therefore to prevent their Applications, to have remov'd her from hence, e're they could be aware of it.

However, tho' She was seiz'd thus sud­denly by Death, yet was She not surpriz'd: for She was ever in preparation for it; her Loins girt, (as the Scripture speaks) and her Lamp ready trimm'd, and burning. The [Page 32] moment almost that She was taken ill, She was just risen from her Knees, and had made an end of her Morning Devotions. And to such an One a sudden Death could be no misfortune. We pray indeed against it, because few, very few, are fit for it; and the Church is to proportion her Forms to the Generality of Christians: But where a Good Soul is in perfect Readiness, there the sooner the sad Stroke is struck, the better; all Delays in this case are uncomfortable to the Dying, as well as to those who sur­vive 'em.

In truth, She could not be call'd away more hastily than She was willing to go. She had been us'd so much to have her Con­versation in Heaven, and her Soul had been so often upon the wing thither, that it rea­dily lest its Earthly Station upon the least becken from above; and took the very first opportunity of quitting her Body, without lingring, or expecting a second summons. She stay'd no longer, after She was call'd, than to assure her Lord of her entire re­signation to the Divine Will; and of her having no manner of uneasiness upon her [Page 33] Mind; and to take her Leave of Him, with all the expressions of tenderness. When this was over, She had nothing more to do with her Senses; and therefore sunk imme­diately under her Illness, and, after a short unquiet slumber, slept in peace.

Thus liv'd, and thus dy'd this Excellent Lady, whose Character I have here repre­sented in short, as my Time, and the Mea­sure of such Discourses as these, would suffer me; and endeavour'd to renew a faint Image of her several Virtues and Perfections upon your Minds. I have done it in a confus'd manner, and without the nice Divisions of Art; for Grief is not Methodical. It is enough, if what I have said serve any ways to make her Resemblance present to your thoughts, tho' it be not after the best and liveliest manner: when the Life is gone, a Picture drawn even by an unskilful hand has its Use and Value; and those who Lov'd what it represents, tho' very unequally, will be touch'd at the Sight of it.

[Page 34] You all are so, I question not, at what has been said; touch'd in various Manners, and in different Degrees, as Your Relation to her was nearer, or further off; as You knew more or less of her. But You do not mourn alone; many Living there are, that do now, and many more there are, who shall hereafter, when her Character has spread, lay it to heart. The World has had a Loss as well as You; True Virtue and Piety have suffer'd in her fall: and All therefore, that have a Regard for Them, shall bear a part with You in Your Sorrows.

The True Servants of God shall lay it to heart; who from their Souls desire the encrease of Religion and Goodness, and know the Power and Influence of so sweet, so winning, so perfect a Pattern as was set by Her: who pro­mis'd Themselves a mighty Countenance, and the World strange Advantages, from her Exemplary Sanctity and Goodness.

They that Minister in holy things will lay it to heart; to whom She repair'd, with so much constancy and seriousness, to hear the Divine Oracles explain'd by 'em, and to enquire the Law at their mouths. They consider, what [Page 35] an Helper and Furtherer of their pious Labours they have lost; and how much more lifeless and ineffectual their Discourses will now be, than they were heretofore, when She encourag'd 'em by her presence, and by her practise; and by the strict at­tention She paid to 'em, made way for 'em into the hearts of Others. Virtue went out from her in whatever congregation She appear'd; She secretly rais'd and set an Edge upon the Devotions of the Place: Every Day of her Life preach'd up Goodness as effectually, as the most rational and moving Sermon.

The Enquirers into the Methods, and ado­rers of the Mysteries of Divine Providence, will lay it to heart. Why, will they say, when God has most Work to do in the world, is one of the best and faithfullest In­struments of his Glory call'd out of it? why is She snatch'd away from us at a Time when we could least have spar'd her? when Ini­quity and Irreligion run high, and Piety is in danger of growing out of Fashion, and out of Countenance? Why, in such a Juncture, is this Good Lady taken? and why are so [Page 36] many of her Sex, so unlike her, left? Is it in Mercy to Her, on in Judgment to Us? Is it because She was too good to live here, or be­cause We were too wicked to deserve her company? Righteous art Thou, O Lord, when we plead with Thee: yet let Vs talk with Thee of thy Iudgments!

Her Domestics will lay it to heart, whom She shone upon always with a singular Goodness; who were near Witnesses of her most retir'd Graces and Virtues; and had the best opportunities of forming them­selves upon her admirable Model: and who will now (alas!) be destitute of her Ex­ample, and Encouragement; of her sweet Advice, and gentle Reproofs; and will be left to live upon that Stock of Virtue, which has been happily laid in by 'em, that Measure of Goodness which They have already deriv'd, from attending and observing Her.

Finally, the Poor will lay it to heart, whose Bowels She refresh'd, and whose Wants She reliev'd; and was ever their sure Refuge, and Support, their Kind and Merciful Patro­ness and Friend.

[Page 37] But above all, her Relations will lay it to heart; Those, to whom She was most near­ly joyn'd by Blood, or Love; and who had a more particular Interest in all her Virtues: They will lay their hands on their Breasts, in the Day of Adversity, and consider; how have we offended, that we are thus grie­vously punish'd? and which of Our Miscar­riages is it, that this Heavy infliction is Inten­ded to reform?

This is the wisest and best Use that can be made of such Solemnities as these; not by the means of 'em to excite our truly pious and Christian Grief to an immoderate and unchristian Degree, nor to sorrow as Men without hope; but to take Occasion from thence to search and enquire into our selves; to learn the meaning of these Divine Ad­monitions; and, after we have interpreted 'em truly, to resolve to obey 'em.

The Dead are unquestionably happy, whose Loss we deplore: Happy will the Living be also, if they thus wisely, thus effectually lay it to heart! It is better doubtless to go in­to the House of Mourning, than into the House of Feasting; but upon this condition, that we [Page 38] come better out of the one, than out of the other: that we leave our Vanities and our Vices behind us; that we lay aside our Af­fections towards this World, and our Indif­ference towards another; that we put on holy and hearty Resolutions of being even Now, what we shall wish we had been, Here­after, when the Fatal Hour approaches; and of living the Life of this Righteous Person, that we may dye her Death too; and be re­member'd and lamented, as She is, by those who survive us.

Let us assure our selves, that the best way of doing honour to her Memory will be, by making her Character still live in Our Lives and Actions; that the truest in­stance of our Love and Esteem of Her is, to endeavour to be Like Her: for Thus, we shall even add to the Vast Reward She is entitled to, some further Degrees of Happi­ness and Honour; and shall make the Crown of Glory she is to wear, bright as it will be, yet brighter, in the Day of General Retribu­tion. Till when, it may be piously sup­pos'd, that the Saints departed are not ad­mitted to the Fulness of Ioy, that in the [Page 39] mean time the Influence of their good Exam­ples and good Deeds spreading far and wide, That too, when their Accounts are made up, may be taken into them; and the Fitness and Proportionableness of their exceeding great Recompence then bestow'd, be manifest­ed in the Sight of Angels and Men.

Wherefore lift up the Hands that hang down, and the feeble Knees! Think not so much and so long on the incomparable Cha­racter of the Deceas'd, as to forget the true Use You are to make of this afflicting Acci­dent; and to neglect those good Improve­ments under it, which the Wise and Kind In­flicter expects at Your Hands. You have paid Your sad Respects to Her; be not now want­ing to Your selves: but Gird up the Loins of Your Mind, and be Ye comiorted!

The Consideration of what She was, which afflicts You, should much rather chear and revive You: had She been worse indeed, You would with more reason have bewail'd her. But why should You continue to mourn for One, who is enter'd upon a state of un­speakable Joy? Why should You be deject­ed at Her Advancement?

[Page 40] She is gone to the place, where all Tears are wip'd from her Eyes; where there is no more Death, nor Sorrow, nor Crying: She is gone, and her Works have follow'd, and will follow her, to her Great and Endless Advantage. God grant, that when We also follow her, we may do it with as little Sur­prize, and as much Chearfulness!

To him, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, be ascrib'd, as is most due, all Ho­nour, Adoration, and Thanks, now, and for ever! Amen.