Remains, Elegy – To the reader
An ELEGY on the Lamented Death of the Reverend Mr. THOMAS WADSWORTH, ſometime Miniſter of St. Mary Newington-Butts, and after for a ſhort time of St. Laurence Poultney, London. October 29. 1676.
WELL may the Church now waſh her wounds with tears,
When her beſt blood from every vein appears;
If the ſound members be cut off ſo faſt,
Sure the whole Body 'll pine away at laſt;
For when our dear Right Hands and Eyes are gone,
The ſorry ſtump will ſeek Conſumption;
And every one, like that Diſciple, cry,Joh. 11.16.
Let us go Partners in his fate, and dye.
The Ark is Iſrael's Chariot; but when Death
Purſues its chiefeſt Horſmen out of breath,
Well may our Wheels be taken off, and we
Be driven to deſpair of Remedy:
If God proceed to fill his Garner ſo
With Lab'rers, whom we need ſo much below,
Such chaff as we almoſt juſtly fear,
God hath no Iſra'l to be gather'd here;
And if provoked Juſtice ſhould begin
To whet its …word, and thruſt its Sickle in;
Oh dreadful Harveſt! when the Reaper claims
The whole for fewel to Eternal flames.
God's naked Vineyard cannot but decay,
If skilful Dreſſers be thus call'd away;
And how can we expect, but that they will,
When we're thus barren in a fruitful Hill;
Laden with ſuch Wild Grapes, as vengeance hath
Adjudged to the Wine-preſs of his wrath.
The firmeſt ſtakes in all our Hedg, we ſee
Pluckt up by the ſame hand ſucceſſively;
And God's juſt counſel ſure of us in ſtore,
Is to lay waſte, and to replant no more;
Hedges of thorns there are, not for defence,
But only ſet to gore our Innocence;
Wild-Bores of 'he Roman forreſt may invade,
By us there can be no reſiſtance made;
For at theſe Breaches they'll come in, and then
Whoſe skill or ſtrength ſhall drive them out agen?
The little Foxes ſpoil our tender fruit,
And who can take them, 'nleſs the Keepers do't?
Doctrine and Worſhip, like two Cluſters ſtand,
Expoſed to be ſnatcht by ev'ry hand;
And they who boldly dare call evil good,
May give us poyſon next inſtead of food.
Well may the Philiſtins now proudly boaſt,
When all our Champions leave the wounded Hoſt
Now, that the danger's greateſt, and they think
In heat of War to give us blood to drink;
So we, who hop'd to ſee Goliah's fall,
Follow our Leaders to their Funerall.
When ſuch as theſe defie God's mighty Name,
Who ſhall ſtand forth to vindicate the ſame?
For they that knew it beſt, have left us here
To ſtrive at once with Ignorance and Fear;
Suſpecting Error, 'tis an eaſie crime
In weaker eyes to ſhun the Truth ſometime;
And when our light is gone, men in the dark
Will bring their Tinder to a Wild-fire ſpark.
When Reaſon climbs the Throne, we ſtand in doubt,
Whether our Faith may caſt this Hagar out;
But now thoſe Eagles face the Sun, whoſe flight
Hath made their Faith to vaniſh into ſight;
No Veil within that Temple; therefore they
Have open viſion, and perfect day.
Theſe Palm-trees once adorn'd our Sion-Hill,
And though by Death cut down, they flouriſh ſtill;
But in another ſoil, and Countrey, where
They only now a weight of glory bear;
And other preſſures taken off, they ſoare
Above thoſe skies they could not reach before;
No other Canaan now, but that is known,
With Milk and Honey always overflown;
Rivers of pleaſure run on ev'ry hand,
Like channels cut throughout this promis'd Land.
From future Evils they're eſcap'd, while we
Survive to feel the threaten'd miſery;
For 'tis moſt certain, when the Bridegroom's friends
Are called home, God's Marriage-Treaty ends:
Which, after ſuch remiſneſs, and neglect,
Is but what fooliſh Virgins might expect.
Thus what they feared, and predicted too,
May be accompliſht in our final woe;
And though the Meſſengers are gone, we find
Their meſſage in full force ſhall ſtay behind;
Like to that Church above, Truth will appear
To ſhame Deſpiſers, yet Triumphant here.
Among that throng, whoſe ſouls have lately fled
Out of their Bodies to embrace their Head,
This Man of God hath taken wing, to taſte
Whether the beſt Wine be reſerv'd till laſt;
There he is proving, what he prov'd before;
Now in the Ocean, then upon the Shore.
That Immortality, of which each line
Partakes, and thereby proves it ſelf divine:
Thus in his Book, beſide his own intent,
He rais'd himſelf a laſting Monument,
Wherein his Name ſhall live, and Readers come
Like devout Pilgrims, viſiting his Tomb.
And as his Faith the fears of Death 'orecame,
So ſhall thoſe Papers evidence the ſame;
For what he had by Reaſon taught long ſince,
He after learned by expertence;
His Agoniſtick Tortutes, and his Pains
Screw'd up his joyful foul to higher ſtrains
Of Triumph: and when nature ſtruggled, he
Obtain'd by Grace the greater victory;
Wonder and Pity both were mov'd in thoſe
Who were ſpectators to his pangs and throws:
Well might all ſuch conclude, that ſaw him then,
That dying Saints are ſomewhat more than men:
For when he ſmarted moſt by's Father's Rod,
Still our dear Thomas cry'd, My Lord, my God;
As ſeeing now his wounded hands and ſide,
Whom he had preacht, through weakneſs crucify'd.
Thus Patience had its perfect work; at length
Like one, whoſe Conflict had increas'd his ſtrength,
He triumph'd over all, and did commit
His ſoul to him, that had redeemed it.
His Courſe ſo finiſht, he at laſt ſat down;
And he that firſt won ſouls, then won the Crown.
Theſe Works now follow him, while he's poſſeſt
Of's full reward in Everlaſting rest;
Faithful in all God's Houſe, like Moſes, ſtill
H' obey'd the Sov'raign Legiſlative Will;
Obſerv'd the Pattern in the Mount, although
Men's wanton fancies would not have it ſo;
But by God's Post attempt to ſet their own,
As if that were too weak to ſtand alone.
'Twas not Event, but Duty, which his Eye
Fixt as the meaſure to be guided by;
His Courage in this warfare was ſo great,
Nothing could ever force him to retreat;
But ſtill he kept his ground, as who ſhould ſay,
If I loſe that, I alſo loſe the day;
Therefore let Enemies do what they can,
My fear of God hath drown'd the fear of Man.
Thus did he ſow in tears, till now at laſt
To him this low'ring ſtormy ſeaſon's paſt,
And his full ſheaves of Glory make amends
For light afflictions, with what far tranſcends.
He liv'd belov'd, and dy'd bewail'd; and ſuch
Wh' enjoy'd him moſt, enjoy'd him not too much;
His Body's Earthen-veſſel henceforth muſt
Be laid up ſilent in its native duſt;
Until that matter, when the Trump ſhall ſound,
Start with another form out of the ground;
He walks in his uprightneſs; but the ſenſe
Of this his ſleep ſhould make our Diligence;
That when with Chriſt the Judg among the train
Of Saints and Angels he ſhall come again,
Then in that General Aſſembly, we
May ſing theſe Sion-ſongs eternally.
S. O. Not worthy to unlooſe The Latchet of his Shooes.
To the Reader on the Picture and Book.
HERE you may ſee ſome Lines of Wadſworth's face,
More of his thinking pow'r, ſublim'd by Grace:
His Sacramental thoughts in Proſe, are ſweet:
His Sermons lively, Fancies walk on feet:
His Letters great affections ſhew'd, when young;
Yet all fall ſhort of Wadſworth's Pulpit-Tongue.