Memoires of the lives, actions, sufferings & deaths of those noble, reverend and excellent personages that suffered by death, sequestration, decimation, or otherwise, for the Protestant religion and the great principle thereof, allegiance to their soveraigne, in our late intestine wars, from the year 1637 to the year 1660, and from thence continued to 1666 with the life and martyrdom of King Charles I / by Da. Lloyd ...

THE Life and Death OF HENRY HAMOND, D. D.

WHEN Doctor Henry Hamond was born* 1.1 (Aug. 18. 1605.) at a 1.2 Chersey in Surrey (a place equally indeared to the pious, but unfortunate, King Henry VI. for bestowing on him a charitable Bu∣rial; and to the excellent, but not understood, King Charles I. for giving this man a seasonable birth) the hopeful circumstances of his relati∣ons, promised as much in his Infancy, as the emi∣nent passages of his life performed in his Manhood. Son he was to Dr. Iohn Hamond, that exact Critick; Grandchild tob 1.3 Dr. Alex∣ander Nowel, that reverend Divine; God-son toc 1.4 Prince Henry, that great Spirit.

To Eaton he was sent in his Long-coats, initiated in Latine, Greek, yea, and Hebrew too (Languages that seemed to be his Mother tongue, so early were they, rather infused to him, than ac∣quired by him) by his Fathers care; and to Magdalen Colledge in Oxford at thirteen, by Mr.d 1.5 Allens assistance, his good friend; and Mr. Bush his diligence, his excellent School-master. Here they that taught him Philosophy, were not ashamed to learn of him the Tongues, especially the Hebrew, so rare a Quality in that age, that at first admission, as he had no less than eight Batchellors his Schol∣lars for Greek, so he entertained four Masters his Pupills for He∣brew;

wherein, as in the whole Circle of Learning, that though his Father (and in him all his Interest) dyed, yet his own merit re∣commended him at once to the honor and advantage of Demy in that Colledge at fourteen years of age, of Fellow at nineteen, of Natural Philosophy-Reader at twenty, and the Orator at Dr. Langtons Funeral at twenty two.

Having taken his Degree,* 1.6 the ordinary method of those times had preposted his soul, and ennarrowed his spirit by the con∣trived and interested systems of modern, and withall obnoxous Authors, but that his larger Genius and second thoughts prompt∣ed his great soul to a study equal with its self, that took in all hu∣mane and sacred Learning from the clearest and most dis-interes∣ted sources of both, wherein he gave on all the occasions his fif∣teen years continuance in the University offered him, such preg∣nant Specimens of a vast proficiency, as might be expected from that indefatigable man that constantly studyed twelve hours a day, and left Notes ande 1.7 Indexes at the beginning and end of each Book, upon almost all the Classick Authors extant.

This industry,* 1.8 and this eminence, could not in those days, wherein Religion and Learning were at their fatal heighth, both of perfection and encouragement, escape either observation or pre∣ferment; therefore being ordained at twenty four (viz. 1629.) and Batchelor of Divinity at twenty six (viz. 1631.) and regularly, both in conformity, as well to the Statutes of the House, as to the Canons of the Church. Anno 1633. he Preached Dr. Frewens Course, (the President of his Colledge, since Lord Archbishop of York) at Court with that success, that with the Right Honorable the Earl of Leicesters favour, then his Hearer, he was, upon an honest resigna∣tion of his Fellowship, inducted, Aug. 22. of that year, to Pense∣hurst, as not long after, by the Reverend Father in God, Brian Lord Bishop of Chichester then, and since of Salisbury and Winchester, he was dignified at Chichester.

His Preferments were not so suitable to his Desert,* 1.9 as his Carriage was to his Preferment. For

When Rector of Pensehurst.1 1.10 His Sermons were not undigested and shallow effusions, but rational and just dis∣courses; his method was which he recommended to his Friends, after every Sermon, to resolve upon the ensuing subject, and so pursue the course of study he was then in hand with, reserving the close of the week for the Provision of the next Lords-day, whereby not only a constant progress was made in Science, but materials unawares were gained unto the immediate future work, for (he said) be the subject treated of ne∣ver so distant, somewhat will infallibly fall in conducible to the present purpose: but preaching being the least part of Religion. 2 1.11 Prayer and Devotion (that power of Godliness) was observed by himself and his Family (guided by his good and prudent Mo∣ther) publickly and privately, every day according to the strictest rules of the Church; for the assistance wherein he allowed a Cu∣rate a comfortable Salary.3 1.12 His Administration of the Sacra∣ment,

was as of old, frequent and monethly, wherein thea 1.13 Asser∣tors was by his instruction and example restored to that repute, as it not only relieved the aged, and apprentised the young, poor of Penshurst, but afforded a surplusage to the necessities of Neighbor Parishes.4 1.14 But that his other cares might be the more suc∣cessful, he brought an able School-master into the Town, and the Church Catechism into the Church, which with his half hours ex∣position before Evening Prayer, he rendred so fully intelligible to the meanest capacity, that he observed the older as well as the younger hearers, reaped more benefit than from his Sermons. 5 1.15 Yet a Ministers converse must enforce his Doctrine, and the en∣dearing of his Person must recommend his instruction; very Hospi∣table, he was at all times, especially those more solemn at his Ta∣ble, very charitable at his door; besides, the tenth of his Estate set apart for the poor in weekly Pensions, and his Corn sold them be∣low Market prices which though, as he said, he had reason to do it, gaining thereby the charge of Portage, was a great benefit to them, who besides the abatement of price, and possibly forbear∣ance, saved thereby a days work. Very civil he was in letting his Tythes, whereof one memorable instance in this: Having let the tythe of a large Meadow, and received half the Money at the be∣ginning of the year, the meadow was drowned, and when the Te∣nant offered the payment, he generously returned him the first, with this Noble reflexion, God forbid I should take the tenth where you have not the nine parts. Very punctual he was in visiting the sick, whose request he prevented in his addresses both in person and by writing, taking (as he would say) the opportunity of that serious time to instill the most serious instruction, but withall intima∣ting the folly of remitting the great business of eternity to the last hour, which God designed for the commensurate employment of the life; so much Charity exercised among his Neighbors, taught them that love among themselves, that no difference there in his time went beyond his mediation, and that kindness for him (who had the rare happiness obliging both parties) that as long as he was there, he had never any trouble for his Dues, and when forced thence, no care for his Books and Estate; which when plundred, were redeemed, and reserved for him by his Neighbors to the end of the War.

2 1.16 When Arch-Deacon, so frequent were his publick Sermons at the Cross and elsewhere, so earnest and pathetick his Discourses for obedience and union (which his zeal and prudence charged as the Interest of the Clergy (who saw not then as he did what they do now) as well as their duty) in pressing whereof he confessed he broke off once in a full Assembly of the Clergy from what he had premeditated, not without as signal a blessing from God, as singular applause from his Auditory, for what he had spoke so honestly out of the abundance of his heart.

3 1.17 When his Dignities in the Church refused that privacy his modesty was ambitious of, 1639. he (with eleven of his Contempo∣raries of the same House, whom it had been an unkinde, and a mo∣rose

〈◊〉〈◊〉 of singularity not to have accompanyed) proceeded ••••••••or with that satisfaction in the management of the Exercises belonging to that Degree to his hearers, as could not be expected from one buryed in a Country-living.

His Dignity in the Church challenged a place in the Con∣vocation 1640.* 1.18 his Vertue and Learning obtained a name in the Assembly 1644. his Regularity and Loyalty being not so m••ch en∣vyed, as his Piety and Parts were reverenced by t••at pa••ty, that having threatned and perswaded him in vain by their C••••ntry Committees, permitted him his regular Ministry till Iuly 1643. when the malice of a designed successor making use of an un••uc∣cessful attempt made in his Majesties behalf about ••unbridge upon the Doctors Doctrine and Example, forced him to a retirement to his old Tutor Dr. Buckner, where he and his Fellow Pupil Dr. Oliver stayed three weeks (during which time he dreamed, That being abroad with Company on a Sun-shining-day, an horrid tempest surprized them on a sudden, and divided them; to the lesser number whereof a small voice whispered, Be still, and ye shall receive no harm; the Doctor falls to his Prayers and then the tempest ceased, and the known Cathedral Anthem began, Come Lord Iesus, come away. A dream which the event made aa 1.19 Prophecy, and an Argument that that soul which shall dwell in another world when we dye, converseth there when we sleep) and then upon an alarm that there was an 100l. set upon Dr. Hammonds head, they resolved for Win∣chester, where Dr. Oliver had an interest, until that Doctor was met with the News that he was by a Colledge choice to succeed Dr. Frewen now Bishop of Litchfi••ld, in the President ship of Magdal••n-Colledge, whereupon (some seruples Dr. Hammond made of the publickness of Oxford, and its distance from his beloved charge (to which after addresses made to some friends in power, he had little hope of returning) being satisfied) they betake themselves to a Preferment, rather than a Refuge, and encompasing ••••antshire, with some difficulty come to Oxford.

Here enjoying that peace that was no where else to be had in an indefatigable course of study, a Learned and useful converse with young men direct to them, and with the Elder to satisfie him∣self; to meet with the Prophaneness and formality of the age, he composed his Practical Catechism, as he did his Tracts of Scandal, of Conscience, of Will-worship, of resisting the Lawful Magistrate, and of the Change of Church-Government; to meet with its erro••s; all as seasonably contrived as well performed, to check the gallantry of the prophane world, and discover the demureness of the more pretending; yet all like to be suppressed by the Doctors modesty, had not his intimate friend Dr. Potter of Queens, to whom they were communicated, extorted a publication, but with the conc••al∣ment of his name which was at first guessed, and at last Printed in London and Cambridge.

Neither was his Pen more intent at Oxford, than his zeal and prudence at London (where he attended the Duke of Richmond and the Earl of Southampton, as Chaplain, in Order to the Treaty at

Vxbridge) upon undeceiving the deluded; to which he added 〈◊〉〈◊〉 reason at Vxbridge, where being surprized (as attending t••ere ra¦ther as a Chaplain than a Champion) he answered 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••to suggestions or Arguments read out of a Paper, with that readiness as equally testified his ability and the evidence of that hesitation which hath been reported to his disparagement; the naked truth of which business he sets down thus.

I never heard that Argument urged by Mr. Vines,* 1.20 or any other in my life; and for my pretended answer, I am both sure that I never call••d God and his holy Angels to witn••ss any thing in my life, nor ever swore any voluntary Oath that I know of; and that I was not at that meeting conscious to my self of wanting ability to express my thoughts, or prssd with any considerable difficulty, or forced by any considera••ion to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the answer of any thing objected. I went to Mr. Marshall in my ow•• and my Brothers name, to demand three things. 1. Whether any Argu¦ment proposed by them remained unanswered, to which we might y•••••••• further answer. 2. Whether they intended to make any repo••t of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by past disputations, offering if they would, to joyn with them in it, an•• to perfect a conference by mutual consent af••er the manner of that be∣tween Dr. Reynolds and Mr. Hart; both which being rejected, the third was to promise each other, that nothing should be afterwards 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by either, without the consent or knowledge of the other party; and that last he promised for himself and Brethren, and so we parted.

But the fate of the Nation requires, that neither his strong reason could be heard, nor his Majesties just Arms prevail; yet the resol∣ved man engageth the growing mischiefs in his Tracts of Superst••••••∣on, Idolatry, Sins of weakness and wilfulness, Death-bed repentance, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 View of the Directory, ••raternal Corr••ption, The Power of the K••y••, His Answer to Mr. Cheynels Exceptions against the Practical ••ate∣chism: and (when the Romanists were, fishing in our troubled wa∣ters) his Vindication of the Lord Faulkland. Those lucid interval he was permitted attending his Majesty; and when forbidden that sad, but desired service, managin•• the Affairs of the University and Colledge (in the first whereof he was Orator, as in the second Sub-Dean, since the disputation at Vxbridge) with that assiduous and diligent inspection of the most minute Persons or Affairs under his care; and that for three years together he was seldom seen a bed before twelve at night, and as seldom after five in the morning. The Colledge was as it were his Family,* 1.21 where he relieved the nee∣dy, encouraged the hopeful, reduced the debauched, and prepared all for the expected persecution by his familiar converse, and his weekly office of Fasting and Humiliation.

But the War giving way to a greater mischief, viz. a Visitation, the Doctor is involved in the general Calamity, and with the most Reverend Father in God, the now Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, confined at Oxford, whence all other honest men were by beat of Drum banished; though (such is the reverence the worst men pay the exemplary vertue of the best) they that scrupled no Usurpation,a 1.22 refused a while their Preferment; and they who boggled not at any Oppression, were tender of their Confinement.

Colonel Bvelin himself, with whom they were intended Prisoners, professing he must entertain them as friends; yet deprived and imprisoned they were, so that the good Doctor could attend his Sacred Majesty now, calling for him, no otherwise than by the ex∣cellent Sermons he earnestly demanded, and the Doctor dutifully sent; and gaining no more favour till the Kings death, but with the mediation of his Brother-in-law Sir Iohn Temple, than to be his own prisoner, at the honorable Sir Philip Warwicks house, at Clap∣ham in Bedford-shire; whence on the approach of that unparallel∣led villany, he drew up most pathetique Addresses to the Army, that perpetrated it, and an unanswerable Reply to Ascham and Goodwyn, those two only monsters of mankind, that durst defend it.

Which when now past,* 1.23 though it transported him as far as ei∣ther affection, or duty could carry him, yet sunk him not in an useless amazement; for redoubling his fasting, his tears, and solemn prayer, he resumed his wonted studies.

And* 1.24 Reflecting on the Atheism, that Horrid Fact, and other Black Circumstances threatned, he published his equally seasonable and applauded, Reasonableness of Christian Religion.

2 1.25 Considering that there was not a more dangerous step to ir∣religion, than for those, who durst not but own it, yet to deprave it, to a most scandalous Theory, and a most horrid Systeme; he cleared its wrested Original, in two Latine Quarto Volumes, with Reference to the Jewish and Heathen Customs, the Primitive usa∣ges among Christians and Heretiques, the Importance of the Hel∣lenistical Dialect (by which means, in a manner, he happened to take in all the difficulties of the New Testament) a Collation of several Greek Copies, and a New Translation, drawn up many years ago for his own use, which on second thoughts, to serve all capacities, he cast into the present frame and method of the Annotations on the New Testament.

3 1.26 The careful and publick spirited man, adverting that (〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉) Religion, though never so cleared, could not inwardly oblige, without a power confessed did outwardly awe. Upon the Archbishop of Armaghs request. 1. To clear some Exceptions Blondel had made against his Edition of Ignatius from some Eastern Counsels. 2. And according to his promise of a fuller account, to publish that in Latine, which he had writ to him in English, as well for his own honor, whom Salmasius had unworthily called Ne∣bulo, as the honor of Episcopacy now, as L. Capellus intimated in his Thesis of Church-government at Sedan, deserted by all men, he drew up those nervous and unanswerable Dissertations.

Thus cleared and vindicated he our Religion in bonds,* 1.27 that was first published there; notwithstanding, 1. The loss of his dear Mother, whose last blessing he was forbid, to attend her. For 2. The defeat of his Majesty at Worcester (from whose own hand he received then a most gracious letter, for the satisfaction of his Loyal Subjects, concerning his adherence to the established Religion of the Church of England, wherein his Royal Father li∣ved

a Saint, and died a Martyr.) And 3. The calamity that fell on the honorable Sir Iohn Packingtons Family thereupon at Westwoo••••••. whither he was now removed. Bearing up himself with the provi¦dence of his Ma••esties miraculous Deliverance, in expectation of his no less miraculous Restauration. To use his own words, That God who had thus powerfully rescued him out of Aegypt, would not suf∣fer him to perish in the Wilderness; but though his possage be through the Red Sea, he would at last bring him unto Canaan; that he should come out of tribulation, as gold out of the fire, purified, but not con∣sumed.

But others having not that happy prospect of,* 1.28 nor those pious, and ••iducial reflections on those occurrences; and therefore some, in that dark juncture, falling on the one side, to the Pompous way of the Catholicks; others, on the other side, to that more No∣vel of the Schismaticks, the prudent watchman equally provided for both. For the first, in his Treatise of Heresie and Schism, his discourses against the Catholick Gentleman, and his Armor-bearer S.W. and his Tract of Fundamentals. Forthe second, in his six Queries, his Replies to Mr. Cawdry, Mr. Ieanes, and the noble provincial As∣sembly at London on the Presbyterian account; and to Mr. Owen, and Mr. Tombes on the Independants and Anabaptists; adding that pathetick Paraenesis upon the Interdict, Ian. 1. 1655. writ first in his Tears, and then with his Ink, he looking on this sad dispensati∣on as a reproaching (to use his own words) his and his brethrens former unprofitableness, By casting them out as straw to the Dunghall. A dispensation, that had even broken his great heart, had he not admitted of an expedient, that secured all real duties in the Fami∣ly where he was.

Neither was he more troubled for the Silence imposed on the Orthodox Ministry at present,* 1.29 than amazed at the failure threatned them for the future; both in the superior order of Episcopacy, which he provided against, by a correspondence with his Majesty abroad; and in the inferior of Priesthood, which he designed to supply a seminary of pious, learned, and ••ell•• p••••nci∣pled Pensioners, be kept on foot till his death, in a way more suit∣able to his Heroick minde, than his low fortune; in which business it was observable, how his choice fixed on piety, it being his prin∣ple; That exemplary virtue must restore the Church.

But the Nation being too narrow a circle for his diffusive goodness,* 1.30 his care extended to the banished abroad, as well as his vigilance to the afflicted at home; and several sums of money did he send over, notwithstanding that the Vsurpers discovered it, and convented him, whose commanding worth awed them to that re∣verence of him, that when others were amazed at the surprized, he made it only an opportunity of saying something home to the fierce Monster, concerning his soul, and discourse the appropriate ways remaining to alleviate, at least, if not expiate for them; coming off with a new experiment of his old observation, That they who least considered hazzard in the doing of their duties, fared still best.

Amidst which sad diversion,* 1.31 his labours yet grew up in an un-interrupted course: His Review of the Annotations, his Ex∣position of the Book of Psalms, his Pacifick Discourse of Gods Grace and Decrees, (to Bishop Sanderson, upon some Letters that passed between that reverend and learned Prelate and Dr. Pierce) his Latine Tract of Confirmation, in answer to Mr. Daillee, together with his Enterprize upon the Old Testament, begun at the Pro∣v••rbs, and pursued to a third part of that Book; until at the open∣ing of the year 1660. when all things tended visibly to the great Restauration, and the good Dr. was invited to London, to assist in the great work of the composure of breaches in the Church; against which undertaking, and the ensuing publick employments he was to expect: He 1 Examined his inclinations, temptations, and defects, with the assistance of his friends. 2. He contrived such publick good works, as he might lay himself out in the Dio∣cess of Worcester, designed his charge. And 3. Fell to his Devoti∣on, in behalf of the Nation, now under its great Crisis, and hope∣ful method of Cure. But on the fourth of April, a sharp Fit of the Stone seized him, which put him, who at other times would say, I am not dying yet, into such apprehensions of his danger, that he told the mournful Spectators of his agonies, That he should leave them in Gods hands; who would so provide, that they should not finde his removal any loss; adding, That they should turn their prayers for his recovery into intercessions for his happy change. I pray (said he very passionately) let some of your fervor be employed that way: Being pressed to make it his own request to God, that he might be con∣tinued to serve the Church, he allowed this, a part of his devoti∣on, viz. That if his life might be useful to any one soul, he besought Al∣mighty God to continue him, and by his grace to ennable him to employ that life, he so vouchsafed, industriously and successfully. Adding for the Church, that sincere performance of Christian duties, so much decayed, to the equal supplanting and scandal of that holy Cal∣ling; that those who professed that Faith might live according to the rules of it, and to the form of Godliness superadd the power of it; restraining the ex tempore irregularities of his friends eja∣culations, with that grave saying, Let us call on God in the voice of his Church.

But now through the long suppression of Urine, the bloud be∣ing grown Thin and Serous, and withal, Eager and Tumultuous, through the mixture of Heterogeneous parts; this excellent per∣son fell to a violent bleeding (whereat the standers by being ama∣zed, he said chearfully, It was a mercy, and that to bleed to death, was one of the most desireable passages out of this world:) and found no ease, but that the pain of the Humors stoppage relieved the Stone, the Lethargy that, and the Flux of Bloud the Lethargy; which variety of tortures, exercised not only his patience, but his thank∣fulness too; crying out in his greatest extreamities, Blessed be God, blessed be God.

He made his Will with chearfulness, the oversight whereof he intrusted with his intimate and approved friend Dr. Hen••hman,

now Lord Bishop of London, and received the Sacrament, April 20. and 22. then Good-friday and Easter-day, being very much concerned that he could not be with the Congregation, and saying very passionately, Alas! must I be Excommunicated! So far was he from their opinion, who in their most healthful days, make this not their Penance, but their election and choice.

April 25. he bled with greater violence than before, beyond all remedy by applications or revulsives, until the torrent ceased, the fountain being exhausted, and the good Doctor became so weak, so cold, and so dispirited, that he had strength enough only to per∣severe in his Devotions, which he did to the last moment of his life; a few minutes before his death, breathing out those words, which best became his Christian life, Lord make haste. The same day, that commenced the Nations happiness, the Convention of a Free-Parliament, concluded his life, just when it was like to be most comfortable to himself, and serviceable to the Church: As if this great Champion of Religion, and pattern of all virtue, were reserved for exigence and hazzard, for persecution and suffering; for he resigned his pure and active soul to him that gave it, April 25. 1660.

HIS CHARACTER.

A Soul that dwelt nobly, in a strong and comely Body, whose Proportions were just and graceful,* 1.32 his Face was serene and majestick, his Eye quick and spright∣ful, his Complexion clear and florid, and the whole Man, abating the redness of his Hair (which yet else∣where might be an advancing to him) a beauty delicate, but vigo∣rous and patient of the severest toil and hardship; never ap¦proaching the fire, never subject to any infirmities save Feavers, wherein yet his temperance relieved him, until immoderate study altered his constitution.

Nobly was his soul seated, and noble it was, and just to the pro∣mise of his outward shape. 1. His Sight, was admirably quick and distinct.2 1.33 His Ear, was accurate, and he naturally able to per∣form his part to a Harpsicon or Theorbo, in the relieved intervals of his day labours, and night studies. 3. His Elocution, was free and graceful, prepared at once to charm and command his audience, & when impaired at his Country charge, reduced by his late sacred Ma∣jesty with equal skill and candor, to its natural modulation. 4. His Invention was rich and flowing, outgoing his dexterous Amanuensis, and overflowing his Periods, an hours meditation at night, until he observed that prejudicial to his sleep, and then in the morning

suffced for two Sermons a Sunday, 8. or 9. hours dispatched most of his small Tracts, as that touching Episcopacy, drawn immediately upon my Lord of Salisbury (late of Winchesters motion) in a friends Chamber, who professeth that sitting by all the while, he remem∣breth not that he took off Pen from Paper till he had done five sheets, having amidst his other diversions been frequently his own days work••. His Memory was more faithful to things than to words, it being harder with him to get one Sermon by heart, than to Pen twenty.

6. His speech was so happy, that being defective only in its re∣dundance, his late Sacred Majesty, the greatest Judge and Master of English Rhetorick in this later Age, ennobled him and it with this Character, That he was the most Natural Orator he ever heard.

7. His judgment was strong in his Writings, piercing in business, equally able to unravel the designs of others, and model his own: though (as the excellent Author of his life observeth)

the find∣ing out the similitudes of different things wherein the fancy is conversant, is usually a bar to the discerning the disparities of similar appearances, which is the business of discretion, and that store of notions which is laid up in Memory, assists rather confu∣sion than choice; upon which ground, the greatest Clerks are fre∣quently not the wisest men, yet the incomparable Doctor ow∣ned at once the highest phansie, and the deepest judgment.

Great his natural abilities,* 1.34 greater his acquired, through the whole Circle of the Arts accurate and Eloquent he was in the Tongues, exact in Ancient and Modern Writers, well versed in Philosophy, better in Philology, Learned in School-Divinity, a Ma∣ster in Church Antiquity, made up of Fathers, Councels, Ecclesiastical Historians and Lyturgicks.

Eminent indeed his Intellectuals,* 1.35 more eminent his Moralls, for 1. His temper, though sanguine (which he observed a Providence) was chaste to an Antipathy against the very appearances of wanton∣ness; twice his Houshold cares inclined him to a Marriage, yet he forbore the first time out of respect to the Lady, for whom a bet∣ter Fortune had a kindness, and the second time upon Sta 1.36 Paul and St.b 1.37 Ieromes advice for the present exigence; ever since e∣spousing (what he preserved inviolate) unto his death the more eminent perfection of spotless Virgin chastity. 2. His appetite was good, but restrained to the plainest Dyet, and the most sparing, one Meal in twenty four hours was his constant allowance, and but one for thirty six for two dayes in every week, and for three days in Lent and Ember-week, his voluntary Fasts were his sensualities, and his enjoyned meals (after some Diseases) his penance, luxury even in the relation would turn his stomach, which was so disciplined by his reason, that nothing was pleasant to him (not his beloved Apples) that was not wholsome too, it be∣ing his wonder (how rational Creatures (they are his own words) should eat for any thing but health, since he that did eat or drink that which might cause a fit of the Stone or Gout, though a year after, there∣in

unmanned himself, and acted as a beast: neither was he less obser∣vant of others prescription, that his own; for when confined to a Diet, he would Carve and make that which is others Civility, his refuge. 3. His Sleep was as moderate as his Diet, and if prescri∣bed him above five hours, his trouble rather than his rest; it being his protestation, that when he was abridged his Night studies, he lost not only his greatest pleasure, but highest advantage in reference to business, whereas to be enjoyned early rising in case of costiveness, or so, he judged a meer rescue and deliverance.

So temperate a man must needs be industrious, and really so professed an Enemy he was to idleness,* 1.38 that he recommended no Maxim with that concern as this. Be furnished alwayes with some∣what to do, the best expedient both for Innocence and Pleasure; this being his constant sentiment of that matter, that no Burthen is more heavy, or temptation more dangerous, th••n to have time lie on ones hands: the idle mans brain being not only, as he said, th•• Devils shop, but his Kingdom too, a Model of, and an Appendage unto hell, a place given up to torment and mischief. His very Walks which yet were prescribed him, had their constant tasks, the very time of his dres∣sing and undressing, with his Servants assistance dispatched Vo∣lumes (his saying was, he could not endure to talk with himself) He that shall consider his laborious way immersed in almost infi¦nite quotations, his obligation to read so many Authors Ancient and Modern. His exact refusal of his own and other mens Works or Business, his Agency for Persons of Quality, to provide them School-masters and Chaplains, his Correspondencies abroad and at home, whereof some cost him ten, others twenty, thirty, forty, nay sixty sheets of Paper at a time; his constant sickness which at last forbad him reading for two hours after M••••l, on pain of a fit of the Gout, unquestionably to revenge the failure, will not wonder at what is written of him, not only that nothing kept him from his study, but what confined him to his bed, nor that neither sometimes, nor that he was so averse to dilatary undertaking, that as he would never spend that time in gazing on business that would serve to do it, so his thoughts never lying fal∣low; he no sooner finished one business, but he consulted about another; but that he gained time for business by the time he spent in Prayer, whilst a more than ordinary assistance attending his Devotions, his Closet proved his Library, and he studyed most upon his knees.

His prayer, I say, the constant return whereof the last ten years of his life,* 1.39 exceeded Davids seven times a day. For 1. As soon as he was ready, he was at his prayer with his Servant in his Cham∣ber, and afterwards 2. More privately in his Closet. 3. Be∣tween ten and eleven at his peculiar Office of National Intercessi∣on. 4. A while after at the morning Office to be always perfor∣med by himself. 5. In the Evening at his hour of private prayer enlarged on Sundays, even with the loss of his Supper (if any oc∣casion had diverted him at the usual time) notwithstanding his Physicians prescriptions, which in other Cases he was careful to o∣bey.

6. About five at his solemn Intercession, and the Evening Service seven at Bed-time; and all the while he was awake at his private prayers, the 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Psalm being designed his midnight enter∣tainment in all these. 1. His attention was fixed and steady. 2. His fervor sometimes passionate to a transport. 3. His tears so observable, that it was the wonder of one of his Domesticks, since a Proselyte to the Directory, that the Learned Dr. Ham∣mond could finde motive for his tears at the Cofession, that be∣gins the Liturgy: and it may be our Comfort that there wants not life and heat in the publick Offices of the Church, when they are not wanting in the hearts that use them. 4. His Charity was as extentive as his Saviors love even to mankind, ennarrowed with no more private respects, than those of nature and necessity: the oppressed, the sick, his Enemies taking up a great part of his Li∣turgy (three especial persons that had most unworthily disobli∣ged him, whose names he would never discover, being no other∣wise revenged by him than with a peculiar daily prayer in their behalf; prayers so effectual, that he had under their hands a re∣cognition of their undue procedure) the growing mischiefs of the Nation enlarging his Intercessions which had peculiar resentments of the thirtieth of Ianuary.

His Charity was comprehensive,* 1.40 but his Friendship choice: Friendship! the most sacred thing in his apprehension; next Reli∣gion, and the most happy next Heaven; without which he would say, men led a pitiful, insipid, H••rb-Iohn-like life; he being so passio∣nate a lover of this vertue, that it was his grand design to propa∣gate and improve it among all he judged capable of being ac∣quainted, to mutual advantage; adding, that three persons he knew, whom their studies and troubles had leagued together, were the happiest men in the Nation; and that he himself had no such way of en∣joying any thing as by reflexion from the person whom he loved, that his friends neglect of themselves was an unkindness to him; That he had a thousand times rather that his friend should have that which was conducible to health, than to have it himself: assuming, that if this were believed, it were impossible any one should attempt to express kindness by robbing him of his greatest pleasure, to see others do well. There are two eminent fruits of Friendship. 1. The ease of the Heart. 2. The clearing of the minde. Two ways doth this excellent vertue conduce to the last.

1. By giving us opportunity with security to open and reflect upon our own thoughts before our Confident.

2. By his faithful admonitin and advice which the Doctor would have extended by others and him self, even••t indecencies and suspitions, saying usually, that it was a poor design of friendship to keep the person he admitted to his breast from being scandalous, as if the Physician should endeavor only to secure his Patient from the Plague. Advertisements to which his friends were obliged, though of mi∣staken features, were the greatest kindness and Complements, such as that sent him in his Agonies, more tolerable to him than that message (that now the dayes were come when his deserts should be con∣sidered,

and himself employed in the Government as well as the instru∣ction of the Church. The most insufferable injuries that could be done him, who was so perfect an enemy to flattery, that when he did but suspect once that a commendation of one passage in a Ser∣mon of his, was brought in as an allay to some fore-going plain dealing, He protested that nothing in the world could more avert his love and deeply disoblige, than such unfaithfulness. Neither was his friendship more punctual than constant, intervenient failures not superseding his affection, but improving it to a tenderness for the person, increased by his detestation of his Vice; excepting always those two things, Pride and Falseness, which checked his kindness, because, as he said, they cut off the end of it, his capacity of doing good otherwise, never despairing of the mollia tempora, of plain and honest tempers, free from those artifices and close pretensions which he perfectly hated, and as dextrously discovered, making it evident he did so when seasonable; a circumstance he was very tender of, whose rule and example it was never to reprove in anger, or out of time: it being his design to gain as much upon the per∣sons affections he dealt with, by the kindness of his exhortations, as upon their judgments by the weight and evidence of them; whence the little phrase, don't be simple, from him had more power to charm a passion, than long harangues from others, whose just discourses of Piety and Vertue, were derided when his very intimations were venerated: venerated I should not have said, for he would say, he delighted to be beloved, not reverenced: the di∣stance of the last being not in his judgment consistent with the freedom of the first. In a word, two qualifications he required in Friendship. 1. Plain dealing apart from all jealousies and con¦cealments, the banes of correspondence. It were barbarous to con¦demn a Malefactor, (these are his own Sentiments) more a friend, without being heard. 2. Generosity above all mercenary returns. Love (he said) was built upon the union and similitude of minds, and not the bribery of gifts and benefits; he admitting (as he professed) retributions of good turns, not so much on any score, as that his friend might have the pleasure of being kinde: and scrupling the relief of a person of Quality (whom he had supplyed during the late times of tryal) upon the grand Restauration, for fear it might look rather like a design than a Charity, untill being convinced it would be a kindness, he was less concerned what it might be called.

His Friendship was as wide as Vertue,* 1.41 and his Charity as spread∣ing as Necessity, for which be exactly allowed the tenth of his in∣comes as due, besides the Free-will offering at his weekly Fasts•• and upon all occasions that offered themselves, being so much more intent upon the poors condition than his own, that he would make his low estate an argument for their relief; yea, as industri∣ous as he was to conceal his Charity, we finde an 100l. bestowed on one distressed person of Quality, 60l. on another, 20l. on a third, and all out of a Stock that he had, no visible means but this parting with it, and a blessing upon it to supply. Yet still did he look by his Agents for new Pensioners, especially Sequestred Di∣vines,

their Widows and Orphans, young Students, and the Banish∣ed, for whom he procured and sent considerable sums year by year. His Charity had these excellent qualifications. 1. It was as far as he and his intelligencers could observe seasonably. 2. It was as suita∣to the modesty of his Pensioners, as seasonable to their necessity. 3. It was chearful, an instance of his usual observation, That it was one of the greatest sensualities in the world to give, and that it was the exceeding indulgence of God, that had annexed future rewards, to that which was so amply its own recompence. 4. It was of the best he had, being much concerned, that a Servant in the Family, trou∣bled with the Gout, had, as he directed, any worse than his own Plaister to ease him, although the store of that was almost spent. And, 5. It was with that familiar and hearty kindness, as became him, who would say, It was a most unreasonable, and unchristian thing, to despise any for being poor.

Neither was it his care only to relieve poverty,* 1.42 but to prevent it; by lending gratis (though he allowed Usury) to honest and industrious men, several sums of money, and contriving how they might dispose of them to their advantage, dismissing them with infinite affability and kindness, and a prayer for Gods blessing.

Notwithstanding these profusions of charity,* 1.43 he had where∣withal to be gentile and liberal, rewarding at an highly ingenious rate most presents above the value, with that satisfaction, that he would say, Alas! poor soul, Ile warrant you he is glad of this little matter; and make that opportunity of giving a part of the senders courte∣sie first; and freely contributing to most publick works; as fifty pounds towards the great Bible, three hundred pounds upon the repair of his Parsonage-house, &c. Allowing himself not above five pounds a year, upon no other principle, but thereby to be li∣beral to those he loved better than himself, the necessitous and poor.

The Estate you will think was vast,* 1.44 that maintained these Ex∣pences; yet 300l. he had upon his remove from Penschurst, im∣proved by his Prebendary of Christ-church, with the sale of a Lease his Father left him, to a 1000l. and laid out in Leases for years, was all. The books he Printed, considering the many Editions he had no∣thing for, the charge of sending them to and fro, Sheet by Sheet, for his own and others animadversions, and the Copies he bestowed on his acquaintance coming to very little, and the private contri∣bution accepted by him, when abundantly offered, to less; even 20l. of 50. a perfect stranger hearing of his imprisonment sent him at Oxford, which he received with much reluctancy, notwithstanding the present exigencies. 1. Because he would gratifie his own pride. And,* 1.45 2. Because he might not give the Gentleman the discomforture of seeing he had made an unseasonable offer, so that it remains still a wonder, that in spight of himself, he was at his death worth 1500l. But that it is a little allay to the miracle, that he said, The half of his estate being scattered, was more than the whole. And Dr. Potter professed, his estate grew upon him not∣withstanding his Charge, his Hospitality, and prosuse Liberality,

by trying a conclusion Dr. Hamond taught at St. Pauls, in his Ser∣mon called, The Poor Mans Tything, That to give plentifully to the poor, was the surest way to be rich, which he found true to miracle.

Yet Gods blessing taketh not so much from the wonder of his growing rich,* 1.46 than his own easiness addeth to it, for he made them he dealt with, their own arbitrators (professing that this trash was not worth much ado) and their integrity, their only obligation (if they are honest (said he) there needs no such caution; if knaves, he would not deal with them, or if he were surprized, to that, all his circumspe∣ction could not prevent a Cheat; and (as he writes to a friend that had been abused) I never suffered in my life for want of Hand and Seal.) The best indeed he could have in those days of Usurpation, wherein he offered to pay over again 50. or 60l. rather than make Affidavit that he had done it, before the illegal Iudicatories. Inso∣much, as I cannot but insert the reverend Dr. Fellt excellent obser∣vation, That it pleased God since he had exemplified the advices of his Practical Catechism, to the duties of Almes and Charitable distributi∣ons, in him also to make good, and signally exemplifie the assurance he then, and elsewhere made, in the behalf of Almighty God upon such per∣formance, the giving affluence of temporal wealth.

So much worth as we have described, would have made another proud,* 1.47 but in this Worthy was most humble, and most condescend∣ing.

For,* 1.48 (first) he submitted all his Writings, as to their truth and prudence, to the censure of most of his friends, even the meanest, (saying, There was no man that was honest to him, by whom he could not profit; withal, that he was to expect Readers of several sorts, and if one illiterate man was stumbled, 'twas likely others of his form would be so too, whose interest when he writ to all, was not to be passed o∣ver. Besides, those less discerning Observators, if they could do nothing else (he said) could serve to draw Teeth, i. e. admonish, if ought was too sharply writ.) Engaging them all to lay aside all kindness, but that greatest of being faithful; and saying of an eminent person, that had retutned him a Complement instead of a Censure, That he had reaped this benefit by the disappointment, to have learned never to send his Papers to that hand again, as he did not to his dying day; yet after all these reviews and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 admitted to the subsequent Edi∣tions of his Books, he would profess himself astonished at their re∣ception into the world, especially, as he withal was pleased to add, since others failed therein, whose performances were infinitely beyond any thing which he was able to do.

2 1.49 The less his esteem was of what he did himself, the more his value of what others performed; extant, in a Book called, The whole Duty of Man, &c. Add to this, his excessive affability to the meanest person, to whom he would come without any delay (which he allowed not in himself, and chid in others, even in his excellent Lady, when diverted by the attractives of his discourses, she neg∣lected the many Clients, either of her charity in Almes or Chirur∣gery) in the midst of his beloved studies. This being the rule his ob∣liging humanity gave his friends, To treat their poor Neighbors with

such a chearfulness, that they may be glad to have met with them.

The instances of his condescension are such as these, 1. One Houseman a Weaver,* 1.50 a pious but sickly man, he honored with his Practical Books, he importuned to come to him for what he need∣ed. He provided for him the same freedom, with the good L. P. in case he removed (saying once to the Lady, Will you not think it strange, I should be more affected for parting from Houseman, than from you?) and he bequeathed him ten pounds at his death. 2. One Sexion of Penschurst, to whom he sent his Books, keeping constant correspondence with him, though his Returns were scarce legible, pensioning his Boy at School, and remembring him in his Will.

3. One who happening on the Doctors Writings, was so affect∣ed with them, as to leave his Family and Employment, and wait upon the Doctor himself for directions in his Study, which he had with all other assistance, insomuch, as that he is become now a ve∣ry useful person in the Church.

4. The fourth shall be a hopeful young man at Oxford, whose love to Magick, engaged him in bad Company, until the Dr. took him to his own reading some books with him, particularly Homer, one of whose Iliads, was their Night entertainment, and two on Holy-days; whereon the Doctor would say, with reflection on the then debauches, Come it is Holy-day, let us be jovial, and take the other Iliad.

5. A vicious man on his death-bed, desired to speak with the Doctor, which he heard not till the party was departing, to his great trouble; At the bruitishness of those (they are his own words) that had so little sense of a soul in that sad state. Whence he obser∣ved, that by this example, others, and in particular the companions of that unhappy persons vice, might learn how improper a season the time of sickness, and how unfit a place a death-bed is for that one great important work of Penitance, Which was intended by Al∣mighty God, the one commensurate work of his whole life.

6. One in the Voisinage mortally sick of the Small Pox, then fa∣tal to most of the Doctors complexion, desired the Dr. to come to him; he makes no more ado, when satisfied that the party was so sensible as to be capable of his instructions, assuring those that were fearful of him, That he should be as much in Gods hands, in the sick mans Chamber, as in his own.

7. He kept a despairing person several days in his Chamber, attending and answering, with unwearied patience, all those little scruples and arguments, that unhappy temper too ready suggest∣ed; until the poor soul was settled by his happy method, Wherein duty still preceded promise, and strict endeavor only founded comfort. And to add no more, though to do good to all was his unlimited design, yet to nourish and advance the early vertue of young per∣sons was his more chosen study; to whom he insinuated the beau∣ty, pleasure, and advantage of a pious life on the one hand, toge∣ther with the danger and mischief of brutal sensuality on the o∣ther; obliging them by civilities, which engaged them of very gra∣titude to him, to their duty towards God.

And whence all this kindness for mankind think you? even from his esteem of souls,* 1.51 expressed in these words (most emphati∣cal in his delivery of them.) O what a glorious thing, how rich a prize, for the expence of a mans life, were it to be the instrument of re∣scuing anyone soul! Hence, hence his perpetual Study, his constant Preaching, his daily Prayers, his practical and affectionate Dis∣courses, his Tears, his Cares, his Solicitousness (what to speak more plainly, or more movingly, whether his extemporary word¦ing of it was a defect, &c. when his instructions failed of their de∣s••••ed effect) hence his instruction of the Children (in the Family he dwelt in) since they were capable of it, to his dying day be∣tween prayers and dinner time; with grave observations on their miscarriages, attended with suitable remedies; hence his pri¦vate Catechizing of the same Children in his Chamber on Sun∣days in the afternoon, whereby he ensnared the Servants to re¦ceive those Lessons obliquely, which their bashfulness would not have endured directly. Hence his invitation, yea, importunity to all persons, to the very Scullion, to bestow their leisure-hours in his Chamber, where he treated them with passing familiarity, though amidst his infinite humility, he knew well how to assert the dig¦nity of his Place and Function, from the approaches of con∣tempt.

Yea, so universal his design for vertue and piety,* 1.52 that he had no sooner made Proselytes to his severe and strict way, than he engag∣ed all his Converts to restore their Brethren, and (in his own words) Not to be ashamed of being reputed Innocent, or to be thought to have a kindness for Religion; but own the seducing men to God, with as much confidence at least, as others use, when they are Factors for the Devil; and instead of lying on the guard, and the Defensive part, he gave in charge to chuse the other of Assailant: Adding, That this was their security, it being like the not expecting of a threatned war at home, but carrying it abroad in the enemies Country; and nothing in the Chri¦stian world (he judged) so dangerous as a truce, and the cessation of ho∣stility with all parties, and holding intelligence with guilt, in the most trivial things (he pronounced) as treason to our selves, as well as unto God; for while (saith he) we fight with sin, in the fiercest shock of opposition, we shall be safe; for no attempts can hurt us, till we treat with the Assailants: temptations of all sorts having that good quality of the Devil, to fly when they are resisted. And because a pretence of humility and bashful modesty, might defeat all these instructi∣ons, assuring them that that was arrant Pride, and nothing else. Three Principles he Inculcated, 1. Principiis obsta, withstand the overtures of evil. 2. Hoc age, be intent and serious in good;* 1.53 to which he adjoyned a third, viz. Be furnished with a friend. Accord∣ingly, at a solemn parture, he discoursed to one of his disciples, thus: I have heard say of a man, who upon his death-bed, being to take his farewell of his Son, and considering what course of life to recom∣mend that he might secure his Innocence; at last enjoyned him to spend his time in making Verses, and in dressing a Garden; the Old Man thinking no temptation could creep into either of these employments.

But I in stead of these expedients, will recommend the other, the doing all the good you can to every person, and the having of a Friend, whereby your life shall not only be rendred innocent, but extreamly happy.

Yet this unimitable man was not more active for others good,* 1.54 than patient under his own ills; whether first of contempt (be∣ing as little displeased with his scornful opposites for being of his minde in their little value of his person, as he was much con∣cerned that they were not so in their eager dissent against his per∣son; in so much that in ten years converse, neither his sanguine temper, nor his great temptations were observed to transport his passion to any indecency:) Or secondly of pain, which (though he would say he was of all things most a Coward to) yet he endured with eminent constancy and perfect resignation; his first consideration being, what failing had provoked the present chastisement, and his prayer that God would convince him of it; nor only so, but tear and rend away though by the greatest violence and sharpest discipline, whatever was dis∣pleasing in his eye, and grant not only patience, but fruitfulness under the rod; adding his repeated submission, Gods holy will be done, ac∣cording to his beloved Doctrine of resigning our selves, not to the will of God alone, but to his wisdom, both which he was used to say were perfectly one thing in that blest Agent (whence his Motto in the most dismal appearances of Events 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Even this for good.) His next observation was of the Circumstances of the allay, as when it was the Gout, that it was not the Stone or the Cramp; and when it was the Stone, it was not as sharp as others felt. And in the intermission of his importunate maladies, his third reflexion was a transport of Thanksgiving (that he who had in his constitution the cause of so much pain, should yet by Gods immediate interposing, be rescued from the effect) whereby you might discern what a pleasant thing it is to be thankful, and how eternity may be well spent in Hallelujahs.

Its easily presumed that the serious Christian that readeth all this, would gladly know the Rules and Principles whereon the good man raised his happy serenity and calmness: to satisfie his use∣ful curiosity, then his first Rule was,* 1.55 never to trouble himself with the fore-sight of future events, suficient (he resolved) to the day is the evil thereof, it being (as he went on) the greatest folly in the world, to perplex ones self with that which perchance would never come to pass: But if it should, then God who sent it, will dispose it to the best; most certainly to his glory which should satisfie us in our respects to him: and unless it be our fault as certainly to our good, which if we be not strangely un∣reasonable, must satisfie in reference to our selves and private Interests. Besides all this, in the very dispensation God will not fail to give such allays which (like the cool gales under the Line) will make the greatest heats of sufferance very supportable, ei∣ther the thing before us (as he would subjoyn out of Epictetus) is in our power, or it is not: if it be, let us apply the remedy, and there will be no motive for complaint; if it be not, the grief is utterly impertinent, since it can do no good. For (this he annexed of the

same Authors) that every thing hath two handles; if the one prove hot, and not to be touched, we may take the other that is temperate. His second rule was, to recollect his constant expe∣riences of Gods dealing with him in precedent Dispensations. His third was, quod sis esse velis, nihil{que} malis (in his English) to ra∣ther nothing, and not only to acquiesce in the present state as most necessary, but to be pleased with it as resolved the best; adding his pretty question to the over-solicitous, when they would begin to trust God, or permit him to govern the world? whereby the world and its Appendages hang loose about this unconcerned Christian; that he never took notice when any part dropped off or sate uneasie. His fourth was, the great pleasure he took in a state of subjection; which, as he said, rescued him from the sollici∣tous disquiet and discomposure of choice, and left him nothing but the easie duty of obedience: yet when he could not discern where his obligation lay, he addressed himself to God by his own and his friends Prayer and Fasting, his certain Refuge in this as well as other Exigents. A tremulous and doubtful propensity of minde to both, and neither side being in such disgrace with him, that he would call it the deliberation of Buridans Asse. His fifth rule was, to keep up a vigorous and lively Devotion, so much his basiness, that when an irremediable drowziness seized upon him at Prayers, after a violent haemorrhage (though he returned to e∣very Response amidst his importunate infirmity) he very sadly resented it, saying, Alas! this is all the return I shall make to this, meerly to sleep at Prayers.

His last Maxim was, that suffering was a blessing and a priviledge, whence these Divine Aphorisms in reference to the publick, then in a dismal state for its sin and the consequences of it; That prospe∣rous iniquity would not be a deliverance, but the most formidable judg∣ment: That the Nation during its pressures was under the Discipline of God, given up to Satan by a kinde of Ecclesiastical censure; and should the Almighty dismiss us from his hands, and put us into our own, giving us up to our selves with a why should you be smitten any more? this were of all inflictions the most dreadful. And these his Maxims with re∣spect to the sad consequences of the Cheshire-defeat, in answer to the desponding sorrows of a friend, Sept. 2. Sir, yet there is not wanting some gleam of light, if we shall yet by Gods grace be qualified to make use of it. It is the Supream priviledge of Chri∣stianity to convert the saddest evils into the most medicinal ad∣vantages, the valley of Achor unto the door of hope, the blackest tempest into the most perfect 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. All kinde of prosperity (even that which we most think we can justifie, the pursuance of the flourishing of a Church and Monarchy) is treacherous and dangerous, and might very probably tend to our great ills; and nothing is so intirely safe and wholsom as to be continued under Gods Discipline; therefore let us adore, bless, and resign our selves to Gods wisest choice. And these his resentments of that blessed alteration, he as passionately feared as wished (suspecting his own hopes, and weeping over his fruitions) his Majesty will be now

brought to that uneasie, if not unsupportable task of Ruling and Reforming a licentious people, to that most irksome sufferance of being worryed with the importunities of covetous and ambitious men; the restless care of meeting the designs of mutinous and discontented spirits, resolving his most wished return only a blessing to his people, not so to himself; but on the score of having oppor∣tunities through glorious self-denyals to do good.* 1.56 I have consi∣dered what other men would be better for this change, and I know not any: as for the Church persecution was generally the happiest means of propagating that, and she then grew fastest when pruned most: then of the best complexion and most heal∣thy, when fainting through loss of bloud: as to the Laity in all their several stations, they had so much perverted the healthful dispensations of judgment, that it was most improbable they should make any tolerable use of mercy; and lastly, in reference to himself, he resolved affliction most conducible. I must con∣fess (said he) near the approaching change, I never saw that time in all my life, wherein I could so chearfully say my Nunc Dimittis, as now. Indeed I do dread prosperity, I do really dread it; for the little good I am now able to do, I can do it with deliberation and advice: But if it pleased God I should live and be called to any higher Office in the Church, I must then do many things in a hurry, and shall not have time to consult with others; and I sufficiently apprehend the danger of relying on my own judg∣ment. And his only triumph upon the defeat of Lambert, and that last effect of gasping treason was that of his Charity, say∣ing with tears in his eyes, Poor souls! I bese••••h God forgive them. His Charity, I say, which was the habit of his soul, which Vertue he said, commanded because he loved it; and Vice enjoyed, because it wanted them; yet must all these Vertues dye, and that last line that is drawn over all Perfections, must be the Period of his Character.* 1.57 Dr. Hammond departed this world April 25. 1660. commending that calm and tranquillity to his Attendants he had exercised (being in his highest Agonies, pleased with every thing that was done, and brought him) exhorting the young growing hopes of the family, whose first innocence and bashful shame of doing ill, he above all things laboured to have preserved, to be just to the advantage of their Education, and maintain invio∣late their Baptismal Vow: Enlarging to all about him the great advantages of mutual friendly admonition, and bequeathing the excellent Lady (upon her request of his direction for her whole life) that most comprehensive Duty, Vniform Obedience.

Yet is it pity this excellent Person should be Mortal,* 1.58 who thought and designed nothing that was less than Immortal, nor shall he dye, having four Monuments as lasting as time and the world, which at their own dissolution must resign him to a fair eternity.

1 1.59 This Apothegm (commended to Post••rity, as Dr. Hammonds resolution) That the very condition of obeying the Lot, of not being to chuse for ones self, the being determined in all proposals by Humane or Divine Command, and where those left at large, by the guidance of

Gods Providence, or the assistance of a friend, was the happiest state in the world.

2. A fair Monument of White Marble erected at Hampton, (where by a Multitude of Gentry and Clergy, the last of whom carryed him to his Grave, he was buryed according to his desire, without Pomp, with the Rites of the Church of England, in the Burying-place of the generous Family wherein he lived) by the Generous Piety of the Right Reverend Father in God, Humphrey Lord Bishop of London, bearing this Inscription.

Henricus Hammondus. Ad cujus nomen assurgit Quicquid est gentis literatae (dignum nomen Quod Auro, non Atrame nto Nec in Marmore perituro, sed Adamante potius exaretur) Musagetes Celeberrimus, vir plane summus Theologus omnium consummatissimus Eruditae pietatis Decus simul, & exemplar; Sacri Codicis Interpres facile omnium oculatissimus Errorum Malleus. Post homines natos faelicissimus; veritatis Hyperaspistes supra quam Diei potest nervosus In cujus scriptis elucescunt Ingenii gravitas &, Acumen Iudicii sublimitas & 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, sententiarum 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 D••cendi met hodus utilissima Nusquam dormitans diligentia Hammondus (inquam) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 in ipsa mortis vicinia positus Immortalitati quasi contiguus exuvias Mortis venerandas (Praeter quas nihil Mortale habuit) sub obscuro hoc marmore Latere voluit VII. Cal. Majas An. Aetat. LV. M. D. C. L. X.

(This is all the Marble could contain, but not all, either the Excellent Dr. Hammonds Worth deserved, or the Reverend Dr. Peirces affection could Indite; upon whose affectionate Pen the Elogy grew thus.)

Sed latere qui voluit ipsas latebras illustrat Et Pagum alias obscurum Invitus cogit inclarescere

Nullibi 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 illi potest deesse. Qui msi 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Nihil aut dixit, aut fecit unquam. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Animi dotibus ita annos anteverterat ut in ipsa linguae infantia 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 eaque aetate Magister artium Qua vix alii Tyrones esset. Tam sagaci fuit industria ut horas etiam subsicivas utilius perderet. Quam Pleri{que} Mortalium serias suas collocarunt. Nemo rectius de se meruit. Nemo sensit demissius. Nihil eo aut exceltius erat aut humilius Scriptis suis factisque Sibi uni non placuit Qui tam calamo, quam vita ••umano generi complacucrat. Ita Labores pro Dei sponsa, ipsoque Deo exant-lavit, ut Coelum ipsum, ipsius humeris incubuisse videretur. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 omnem super gressus Romanenses vicit, Profligavit Genevates; De utrisque merito triumpharunt Et Veritas, & Hammondus, utrisque merito triumphaturis ab Hammondo victis, & veritate. Qualis ille inter amicos censendus erit, Qui dem••reri sibi adversos, vel hostes potuit? Omnes haereses incendiarias Atramento suo deleri maluit, Quam ipsorum, aut sanguine extingui, Aut dispendio Animae expiari Coeli Indigena Eo divitias praemittebat, ut ubi cor jam erat, ibi etiam thesaurus. Quod prolixe bene-volus prodiga manu erogavit aeternitatem in faenore lucraturus. Quicquid habuit voluit habere, etiam invalidae valetudinis. Ita habuit in deliciis non magis facere quam sufferre, Totam Dei voluntatem, ut frui etiam videretur vel morbi taedio. Summam animi 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 testatam fecit Hilaris frons, & exporrecta: Nusquam alius in filiis hominum Gratior ex pulchro veniebat corpore virtus omne jam tulerat punctum omnium plausus: Cum Mors quasi suum adjciens Calculum

Funesta lithiase. Coeli avidum Maturum Coelo. Abi, viator Pauca sufficiat delibasse: Reliqua serae posteritati narranda restant Quibus pro merito enarrandis una aetas non sufflcit.

The Third are his Books, more lasting than Marble, viz.

ANnotations on the New Testament. Fol.

Annotations on the Psalms. Fol.

A Volume of Sermons. Fol.

Practical Catechism. Octavo.

A Vindication of some Passages therein, from the Censures of the London Ministers. Quarto.

Tracts. 1. Of Conscience. 2. Of Scandal. 3. Of Will-Worship. 4. Of Superstition. 5. Idolatry. 6. Sins of Weakness and Willfulness. 7. Of a late, or Death-bed Repentance.

Of Fraternal Admonition or Correction. Quarto.

Of the Power of the Keys, of Binding and Loosing. Quarto.

A View of the New Directory, and Vindication of the Ancient Lyturgy of the Church of England. Quarto.

Considerations, concerning the danger of Changing Church-go¦vernment. Quarto.

Of Resisting the Lawful Magistrate, under the colour of Religi∣on. Quarto.

A View of some Exceptions made by a Romanist, to the Lord Vis∣count Faeulkland's discourse, of the Infallibility of the Church of Rome. Quarto.

A Copy of some Papers passed at Oxford, between the Author and Master Cheynell.

An Address to the Lord Fairfax, with a Vindication thereof.

A Vindication of the Dissertations concerning Episcopacy, from the London Ministers Exceptions, in their Ius Divinum Ministeri Evangelii.

Six Queries resolved, 1. Of the way of Resolving Controversies. 2. Of Marrying the Wives Sister. 3. Of Poligamy and Di∣vorce. 4. Of Infant Baptism. 5. Of Imposition of Hands for Ordination. 6. Of the Observation of Christmass, and other Festivals of the Church. Twelves.

Of Fundamentals in a Nation, referring to Practice. Octavo.

Of Schism against the Romanists. Twelves.

A Reply to the Catholique Gentleman, about the Book of Schism. Quarto.

A second Defence of that Book. Quarto.

Controversies about Ignatius his Epistles. Quarto.

Defences of the learned Hugo Grotius.

An Account of Mr. Cawdreys Triplix Diatuba, of Superstition, Will-worship, and Christmass Festivals.

The Baptizing of Infants Revived and Defended against Master Tombes.

Dissertationes quatuor de Episcopatu contra Blondellum, &c.

Paraenesis: Or, a seasonable Exhortatory to all true Sons of the Church of England, wherein is inserted a discourse of Heresies, in defence of our Church against the Romanists. Twelves.

Discourses against Mr. Ieanes, about the Ardency of Christs Prayer, and other then agitated Controversies.

A Latine Tract of Confirmation, wherein Mounsieur Daillee is con∣cerned.

A single Sheet, shewing to what shifts the Papists are driven.

Two Prayers for the Nation, when under its great Crisis, and hope∣ful method of Cure.

His fourth and last, as durable as the rest, is his Life: I know not whether better lived by himself, or writ by the Reverend Doctor Fell; from whose exact Syllables it were a vanity (impardonable in me, while I have before me Dr. Hamond, that compleat Idea of what is fit) to vary further than my enjoyed brevity enfor∣ced me; because no Pen can more elegantly express that Per∣son, than his, who so severely practiseth his virtues. To the Church of Englands honour and advantage be it spoken, in this last age, when ancient virtue had lost its reputation, and was outshined by the success and gallantry of new vices, it recovered its own amiableness in Dr. Hamonds person, and Dr. Fells Chara∣cter: A character that is his nature, not his fancy; and writ well, because lived so.

Notes

• * 1.1

  §. His Birth.
• a 1.2

  Where it is thought Caesar first passed his Ar∣my over the Thames.
• b 1.3

  By his Mothers side.
• c 1.4

  Whose Physician his Father was S••ct. His Education.
• d 1.5

  A good Grecian, who had a hand in the publicati∣on of Sir H. Savile•• Mag∣nificent Saint Chrysostome.
• * 1.6

  Sect H•••• Course of study
• e 1.7

  As may be seen in his Li∣brary.
• * 1.8

  Sect His Pre¦serment.
• * 1.9

  Sect. His Car∣riage in all his places, 1. at a Minister.
• 1 1.10

  Sermons.
• 2 1.11

  Prayers.
• 3 1.12

  The Sacra∣ment.
• a 1.13

  The 〈◊〉〈◊〉 use 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of you may sie in his Sermon of the P••o ••hans Ty••bings
• 4 1.14

  Catech ••sing.
• 5 1.15

  His Hospi∣tality to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 r••••h, his 〈…〉〈…〉 to the P••or his ••is••s to all, and his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with them.
• 2 1.16

  As Arch-Deacon.
• 3 1.17

  Dr. of vinity.
• * 1.18

  Sect His 〈…〉〈…〉 of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• a 1.19

  Vid. Ci••. de Divin. & P••ucerum Wier. de prest d••mo num, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Zom••n de ••piritibus, &c. C••sa••b. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 c 5. B••ld, C••f. C••nse. de Div. Go••dw. de som••is Filli••cum quaest Moral. ••ract 24. c. 5 n. 123. 12••. Hippocra••em de in••omn••is Galen de praescagio ex insomniis. Sande••sonum in Gen. 20. 6. Sect. What he did during the Wat.
• * 1.20

  D. 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.21

  Sect. How he was 〈…〉〈…〉 at the end of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• a 1.22

  Mr. C. of M. C 〈…〉〈…〉 the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and to that 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.23

  Sect. How be dis••ose of himself after the Kings death.
• * 1.24

  1. To write his t••••ct of Christian Religion.
• 2 1.25

  The occasion and method of composing the Annotation•• on the New Testament.
• 3 1.26

  The occasi∣on and method of his disserta∣tions.
• * 1.27

  Sect. His re∣move to Wor∣cester-shire, and his refle∣ct•••••• on what p••ssed ••here, 1651.
• * 1.28

  〈…〉〈…〉 of the times.
• * 1.29

  S••ct•• 〈…〉〈…〉 in the Mini∣stry.
• * 1.30

  Sect. 〈…〉〈…〉 to thse that we 〈◊〉〈◊〉∣nished abro••d; which was ••••••covered 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Cromwell, who 〈…〉〈…〉 of it.
• * 1.31

  Sect. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 action 〈…〉〈…〉 to his Death.
• * 1.32

  1. The f••ame of his Body.
• 2 1.33

  The ••aculti••s of his Soul.
• * 1.34

  Sect. His I••∣tellectual and acquired abi∣lities.
• * 1.35

  Sect. His Mo∣ralls.
• a 1.36

  1 Cor. 7. 26.
• b 1.37

  Epist, ad Age••••uchiam
• * 1.38

  Sect. His dis∣posal of his time.
• * 1.39

  His Devotion.
• * 1.40

  Sect. His Friendship.
• * 1.41

  Sect. His Charity.
• * 1.42

  Sect. His alms of Lending.
• * 1.43

  Sect. His ge∣nerosity.
• * 1.44

  Sect. His estate, and the managing of it.
• * 1.45

  Provost of Q. C. Oxon. and Dean of Worcester.
• * 1.46

  Sect. His 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.47

  Sect. His hu∣mility and con∣descen••ion.
• * 1.48

  1. In reference to himself.
• 2 1.49

  In reference to others.
• * 1.50

  Instances of his Condescen∣sion.
• * 1.51

  Sect His ••a∣l••e of souls.
• * 1.52

  Sect. His in¦structions to his Conve••ts.
• * 1.53

  His Advises.
• * 1.54

  Sect. His Pa∣tience.
• * 1.55

  Sect. The Principles whereupon he composed and setled his minde.
• * 1.56

  ☞
• * 1.57

  What Rules be recom∣mended at his death.
• * 1.58

  Sect. His 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Monuments.
• 1 1.59

  His reso∣lution.