Whose little heart would all the World contain,
(If all the World should fall to one man's lot)
And notwithstanding empty still remain.
The Eastern Conqueror was said to weep
When he the Indian Oce-an did view,
To see his Conquest bounded by the Deep,
And no more Worlds remaining to subdue.
Who would that man in his Enjoyment bless,
Or envy him, or covet his Estate,
Whose gettings do augment his greediness,
And make his wishes more intemperate?
Such is the wonted and the common guise
Of those on Earth that bear the greatest sway;
If with a few the case be otherwise,
They seek a Kingdom that abides for aye.
Moreover they of all the Sons of Men
That rule, and are in highest Places set,
Are most inclin'd to scorn their Bretheren,
And God himself (without great Grace) forget.
For as the Sun doth blind the gazers' eyes,
That for a time they naught discern aright,
So Honor doth befool and blind the Wise,
And their own lustre 'reaves them of their sight.
Great are their Dangers, manifold their Cares,
Through which, whilst others sleep, they scarcely Nap,
And yet are oft surpriséd unawares,
And fall unwilling into Envy's Trap.
The mean Mechanic finds his kindly rest;
All void of fear sleepeth the Country Clown;
When greatest Princes often are distrest,
And cannot sleep upon their Beds of Down.
Could Strength or Valor men Immortalize,
Could Wealth or Honor keep them from decay,
There were some cause the same to Idolize,
And give the lie to that which I do say.
But neither can such things themselves endure,
Without the hazard of a change, one hour,
Nor such as trust in them can they secure
From dismal days, or Death's prevailing pow'r.
If Beauty could the Beautiful defend
From Death's dominion, then fair Absalom
Had not been brought to such a shameful end:
But fair and foul unto the Grave must come.
If Wealth or Scepters could Immortal make,
Then, wealthy Crœsus, wherefore art thou dead?
If Warlike force which makes the World to quake,
Then why is Julius Cæsar perishéd?
Where are the Scipio's Thunderbolts of War?
Renownéd Pompey, Cæsar's Enemy?
Stout Hannibal, Rome's Terror known so far?
Great Alexander, what's become of thee?
If Gifts and Bribes Death's favor might but win,
If Pow'r, if Force, or Threat'nings might it fray,
All these, and more had still surviving been;
But all are gone, for Death will have no Nay.
Such is this World, with all her Pomp and Glory;
Such are the men whom worldly eyes admire,
Cut down by time, and now become a Story,
That we might after better things aspire.
Go boast thyself of what thy heart enjoys,
Vain Man! triumph in all thy worldly Bliss:
Thy best Enjoyments are but Trash and Toys;
Delight thyself in that which worthless is.
_Omnia prætereunt præter amare Deum._
DEATH EXPECTED AND WELCOMED.
Welcome sweet Rest, by me so long Desir'd,
Who have with Sins and Griefs so long been tir'd;
And welcome Death, my Father's Messenger;
Of my Felicity the hastener.
Welcome good Angels, who, for me distrest,
Are come to guard me to Eternal Rest.
Welcome, O Christ, who hast my Soul Redeem'd,
Whose Favor I have more than Life esteem'd.
Oh! do not now my sinful soul forsake,
But to thyself thy Servant gath'ring take.
Into thy Hands I recommend my Spirit,
Trusting through Thee Eternal Life t'inherit.
A FAREWELL TO THE WORLD.
Now Farewell, World, in which is not my Treasure;
I have in thee enjoy'd but little Pleasure.
And now I leave thee for a Better Place,
Where lasting Pleasures are, before Christ's face.
Farewell, ye Sons of Men, who do not savor
The things of God; who little prize his Favor.
Farewell, I say, with your Fool's Paradise,
Until the King of Terrors you surprise,
And bring you trembling to Christ's Judgment Seat,
To give Account of your Transgressions great.
Farewell, New England, which hast long enjoy'd
The Day of Grace, but hast most vainly toy'd
And trifled with the Gospel's glorious Light;
Thou may'st expect a dark Egyptian Night.
Farewell, young Brood and rising Generation,
Wanton and proud, ripe for God's Indignation,
Which neither you nor others can prevent,
Except in Truth you speedily repent.
Farewell, sweet Saints of God, Christ's little Number,
Beware lest ye through sloth securely slumber;
Stand to your Spir'tual Arms and keep your Watch,
Let not your Enemy you napping catch;
Take up your Cross, prepare for Tribulation,
Through which doth lie the way unto salvation.
Love Jesus Christ with all sincerity;
Eschew Will-worship and Idolatry.
Farewell, again, until we all appear
Before our Lord, a _Well-done_ there to hear.
Farewell, ye faithful Servants of the Lord,
Painful dispensers of his Holy Word,
From whose Communion and Society
I once was kept through long infirmity.
This of my Sorrows was an aggravation;
But Christ be thankéd, through whose Mediation
I have at length obtainéd Liberty
To dwell with Soul-delighting Company,
Where many of our Friends are gone before,
And you shall follow with a many more.
Meanwhile stand fast, the Truth of God maintain,
Suffer for Christ, and great shall be your Gain.
Farewell, my natural Friends and clear Relations,
Who have my Trials seen and great Temptations;
You have no cause to make for me great Moan;
My Death to you is little Loss or none.
But unto me it is no little Gain,
For Death at once frees me from all my Pain.
Make Christ your greatest Friend, who never dies;
All other Friends are fading Vanities.
Make him your Light, your Life, your End, your All;
Prepare for Death, be ready for his Call.
Farewell, vile Body, subject to decay,
Which art with lingering sickness worn away;
I have by thee much Pain and Smart endur'd;
Great Grief of Mind hast thou to me procur'd;
Great Grief of Mind by being Impotent,
And to Christ's Work an awkward Instrument.
Thou shalt not henceforth be a clog to me.
Nor shall my Soul a Burthen be to thee.
Rest in thy Grave until the Resurrection,
Then shalt thou be revivéd in Perfection,
Endow'd with wonderful Agility,
Clothéd with Strength and Immortality;
With shining Brightness gloriously array'd,
Like to Christ's glorious Body, glorious made.
Thus Christ shall thee again to me restore,
Ever to live with him and part no more.
Meanwhile my Soul shall enter into Peace,
Where Fears and Tears, where Sin and Smart shall cease.
A
CHARACTER
OF THE REVEREND AUTHOR,
MR. MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH,
IN A FUNERAL SERMON PREACHED AT
MALDEN, JUNE 24, 1705.
BY THE REVEREND DR. COTTON MATHER.
He was Descended of Eminently Religious Parents, who were Sufferers for
that which was then _The Cause of God_ and of _New-England_. While he
was yet a youth, he was marvellously concerned that he might have an
Heart filled with the Spirit of God. This Concernment upon his mind
appeared especially in his watchful Endeavors to have _Spiritual Sins_
chased out of his cleansed Heart. PRIDE, the Sin of _Young Men_, yea, of
_all_ Men; PRIDE, the Sin which few Men try or trouble themselves about;
this Devout Youth was full of Holy and Watchful Trouble about it: And he
then wrote a very Savoury Discourse, Entituled, _Considerations against
Pride_, and another, Entituled, _Considerations against Delighting more
in the Creature than in God_. This was to Mortify in himself the Sins
rarely minded by the most of men.
Having had a Pious and a Learned Education, the first Publick Station
wherein I find him, was that of a _Fellow_ and a _Tutor_ in _Harvard
Colledge_. With a rare Faithfulness did he adorn that Station! He used
all means imaginable to make his _Pupils_ not only good Scholars, but
also good _Christians_, and instil into them those things which might
render them rich Blessings unto the _Churches_ of God. Unto his Watchful
and Painful Essays to keep them close under their _Academical
Exercises_, he added Serious Admonitions unto them about their Interior
State; and he Employed his _Prayers_ and _Tears_ to God for them, and
had such a flaming zeal to make them worthy Men, that upon Reflection he
was afraid _Lest his cares for their Good, and his affection to them,
should so drink up his very Spirit, as to steal away his Heart from God_.
From _Cambridge_ he made his remove to _Malden_, and was their Faithful
Pastor for about a Jubilee of years together.
It was not long after his coming to Malden that a sickly Constitution so
prevailed upon him, as to confine him from his Publick Work for some
whole seven of Years. His _Faithfulness_ continued when his _Ministry_
was thus interrupted. The Kindness of his Tender Flock unto him was
answered in his Kind Concern to have them served by other Hands. He took
a short voyage unto another Country for the Recovery of his Health;
which, though he recovered not, yet at his Return I find him comforting
himself with inserting of this Passage in his Reserved Papers:
Peradventure the Lord Removed me for a season that he might set a
better Watchman over his Flock, and a more painful Laborer in his
Vineyard. This was one thing that I aimed at in Removing (to help the
People's Modesty in the case), and I believe the Lord aimed at it, in
Removing me for a season.
His Faithfulness now appeared in his _Edifying Discourses_ to those that
came near him; much bewailing the want of a Profitable and Religious
conversation in so many that profess Religion. And that yet he might
more _Faithfully_ set himself to do Good, when he could not Preach he
_Wrote_ several Composures, wherein he proposed the edification of such
Readers as are for plain Truths, dressed up in a _Plain Meeter_. These
Composures have had their Acceptance and Advantage among that sort of
Readers; and one of them, the _Day of Doom_, which has been often
Reprinted in both _Englands_, may find our Children till the _Day_
itself arrive.
It pleased God, when the distress of the Church in _Malden_ did
extremely call for it, wondrously to restore his _Faithful Servant_. He
that had been for near Twenty Years almost _Buried Alive_, comes abroad
again, and for as many years more, must, in _Publick Usefulness_,
receive the Answer and Harvest of the Thousands of Supplications with
which the _God of his Health_ had favoured him.
How _Faithfully_ did he now Deliver the _Whole Counsel of God_!
How _Faithfully_ did he Rebuke _Sin_, both in his _Ministry_ and
_Discipline_!
How Faithful was he to the _Work of God_ in the Churches of
_New-England_, and grieved at every thing that he thought had any
Tendency to incommode that Glorious Work! But how _Patient_, how
_Loving_, how _Charitable_ to such as in lesser Matters differed from
him!
How Faithful was he in the Education of his _Family_! A very Abraham for
his Commands unto them, to _Keep the Way of the Lord_! A very David for
his charge unto them to _Know the God of their Father and Serve Him_!
His long Weakness and Illness made him an _able Physician_ for the
_Body_ as well the _Soul_.
As he was _Faithful to the Death_, so he was _Lively to the Death_.
It was a surprise to us to see a little, feeble _Shadow_ _of a Man_,
beyond _Seventy_, preaching usually twice or thrice in a week, Visiting,
Comforting the _Afflicted_, Encouraging the _Private Meetings_,
_Catechising_ the Children of the Flock, and managing the _Government_
of the Church, and attending the _Sick_, not only as a _Pastor_, but as
a _Physician_ too; and this not only in his own Town, but also in all
those of the Vicinity. Thus he did _unto the Last_; and he was but one
_Lord's-Day_ taken off before his Last. But in the _Last Week_ of his
Life, how full of _Resignation_! How full of _Satisfaction_!
From his Exemplary Life I will single out one thing, his EARLY RELIGION.
Our _Wigglesworth_ was a Godly child, and he held on living to God and
Christ until the Seventy-Fourth Year of his Age.
When he lay a Dying, some one spoke to him about his having secured his
_Interest_ in the Favor of Heaven, and his _Assurance_ of that
_Interest_. He Replyed, [Me-thoughts like my _Polycarp_,]
I bless God I began that Work betimes, and ere I was Twenty Years Old I
had made thorow work of it. Ever since then I have been pressing after
the Power of Godliness, the Power of Godliness! For more than Fifty
Years together I have been Laboring to uphold a Life of Communion with
God; and I thank the Lord I now find the Comfort of it!
Words that contain in them _A History of a Life_ more Valuable than I
have seen a Volume in Folio.
EPITAPH.
(BELIEVED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY REV. COTTON MATHER.)
THE EXCELLENT
WIGGLESWORTH;
REMEMBERED BY SOME GOOD TOKENS.
His Pen did once _Meat from the Eater_ fetch;
And now he's gone beyond the _Eater's_ reach.
His _Body_ once so _Thin_, was next to _None_;
From hence he's to _Unbodied Spirits_ flown.
Once his rare skill did all _Diseases_ heal;
And he does nothing now _uneasy_ feel.
He to his _Paradise_ is joyful come,
And waits with joy to see his _Day of Doom_.