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 ...

To the RIGHT WORSHIPFUL Sir JAMES LANGHAM IN MEMORY Of his most VERTUOUS LADY, The RIGHT HONOURABLE, The Lady ELISABETH,

AS is my Subject, such my Verse should be, Grave, sober, modest, full of Piety, Noble, yet humble, ev'ry way compleat, Would this my mirrour were but half so neat. Had I but wit and words, great as her name, All had commanded been to serve the same.

I want, a golden pen from Angels wing To write, their heav'nly notes, to sing Her praise: In whom vertue and greatness strove To make her merit reverence, and Love. Streams of most Royal Bloud did fill her veins, Yet she did boasting check with golden reins Of humble prudence. To the King of of Kings Ally'd by grace: That lasting honour brings. England's Elisabeth and Suffolks Jane, (Each Phoenix of her sex and age, those twain, Whose vertues, learning, crown'd their glor'ous Names Were match't by her, whose worth all others shames. But death both Saints and Princes doth controwl, And at the Cistern breaks the silver bowl. Could not thy dearest friends prevent their fears With all their potency of pray'rs and tears! Must all fall under deaths imperial stroke? Alas! alas! the word by deed is spoke. Were it not heresie, my heart could wis' A pythagorean metempsychosis: But such a metamorphosis would rob Her of glory, and bring her back to sob With us, who in this vail most mournfully Ly humbl'd under sin and misery. Rest then in bliss, and let us quiet rest With what's now done: for what God doth is best. We wish our souls with her's; and is it love To wish her soul below, and ours above? She was so soon, so wonderfully grown Above her self and all that here is known, That soon she was prefer'd and fixt on high, Above our sphere, to look like Majesty.

This earthly mould was not of comprehension, Th' impress desir'd, deserved more extension. This straitned tent could not contain her soul; Her heart to Heaven flew up and then did toll Her after it, to take desir'd possession Of that blest mansion here she had in vision.

(Most Worthy Sir) my Web's homespun indeed, A levidense with a gouty thread: A garb too coarse, to cloath your Ladies name, Therefore I fear, I shall derive your blame. I wish 'twere better, for I do impart, By this same symbole, symptoms of my heart. Such as it's I it present; it take Not for the Author's own, but Objects sake: Who dy'd once, yea twice, to die no more, Rose once, to rise, to live an endless score Of lives, by myriads to Eternity; To samplar us, that we so live, so die.

Rich. Hook.