Hēsychia Christianou, or, A Christian's acquiescence in all the products of divine providence opened in a sermon, preached at Cottesbrook in Northampton-Shire, April the 16, 1644, at the interment of the Right Honourable, and eminently pious lady, the Lady Elizabeth Langham, wife to Sir James Langham Kt. / by Simon Ford ...

In Obitum ELISABETHAE LANGHAM, Insignis Nobilitatis Dominae, charissimae, JACOBI LANGHAM Equitis aurati, conjugis.

TRistia fata cano, cecidit flos Nobilis, eheu: Casta viro conjux, Docta, Modesta, Pia. Ossa Sepulchra tenent, animam caelestia Regna. Haec cinis: in cinerem tuque redactus eris.

Omnia vana fluunt terrestria. Gratia gratos, Sola Deo reddit, sola petenda tibi. Corpus parturiit corpuscula nulla, sed ingens Fructus adest animae; qui super astraviget. Non moritur sterilis, virtutum prole refulgens, Divini quas nunc ubera lactis alunt.

Vox Coeli.

SEal up thy Springs of Tears, my Dear Relict; With mournful sighs, no more thy Soul afflict. Weep not for me, but for thy selflament; With Holy Faith prepare for Heav'ns ascent. Whence spring thy Tears? that I behold Gods face? And reap the joy-fruits of my Saviours Grace? Is't love to me? then why, why does it grieve thee, That by this blest retreat, God does relieve me? Was I not born to dye? and when Death strikes, Shall that expected stroak draw forth such shrikes? What is my gain thy loss? my Joy, thy Sorrow? My Weal, thy woe? away, away, to Morrow Thou and thy Branches shall be planted here, Bove storms and Winters, free from Care and Fear. Oh dwell on this, for this provide: thy Lamp Trim with pure oyl; thy Soul with Grace new stamp Instead of cryes for my remove, make hast, Me to o'retake, and let not Tears run wast. Hast off rough Seas into the Hav'n of rest. Who soonest quit's this World, is soonest blest. What may not God fetch home his loan? and must Heav'n stoop to Earth? God's Rights to Mortals lust? If bad I seem'd, rejoyce thy ills are fled; If good, Joy, Joy, that I'm lodg'd in Christs bed.

Act Gratitude for thy enjoyment of me: This and not murmur is expected of thee. Bless God, who bless'd thee with so meet a mate; First serv'd thy hearts delight with this Rich Cate, And last himself, don't this content? then hither Ascend my Dear, and Joy we all together. Where both shall God, and God shall both enjoy, And both each other, where nought can annoy, Or part our blest embraces, pant, fly, mount, Enter Heav'ns Pallace: where we may recount Fresh Joys Sans measure, where ith' bed of Honour We'll sollaces exchange, and praise the Donour. Till then adieu, my Dear. Heav'ns Anthems hollow, Which call me off, & mundane thoughts up swallow.

Blest is the Death, that dyes into bless'd Life: Where Christ and Saints grow one, as Man & Wife. Vertue enobles: Grace on high blood graft; That Crowns with Glory, makes a polish'd shaft. Transcendent strains surmount my shallow reach, To flourish I aspire not, but to teach.

L. Goodrick.