In saving souls, the sum of miracles.
Above the thankless world, and cloudy sky;
Do thou of all thy labour reap thy crown,
Whilst we here reap the seed which thou hast sown.
—J. C.12
A lamentation for the death of that precious and worthy minister of Jesus Christ, Mr. Thomas Hooker, who died July 7, 1647, as the sun was setting. The same hour of the day died blessed Calvin, that glorious light.
Which hath bereaved us of this man of God;
A man of God, who came from God to men,
And now from them is gone to God again.
Bid joy depart, bid merriment be gone;
Bid friends stand by, sit sorrowful alone.
But ah! what sorrow can be to suffice,
Though heaven and earth were filled with out cries,
The clouds were turned into drops of tears,
The mourning for to last an age of years?
’Twere all too little to lament his death,
Whose life so precious was for heaven and earth.
Job wish’d his day might quite forgotten be,
Which brought him forth this world’s light first to see.
O let not the day be numbered in th’ year,
That took this light out of our hemisphere.
A fatal day, a day of sad presage
To us survivors of this present age.
The hour of thy decease, when sun went down,
When light turn’d dark, when heavens began to frown;
’Tis ominous to us who saw his light,
That grace provok’d should turn our day to night;
And gospel’s light which shineth from on high,
Should clouded be, and darkened in our sky.
O happy days, when such lights shine on earth!
O bitter days, when they are hid beneath!
This is our grief, he who late shin’d on high,
Is hid in grave, and now beneath doth lie.
Let Hartford sigh, and say, I’ve lost a treasure;
Let all New England mourn at God’s displeasure,
In taking from us one more gracious
Than is the gold of Ophir precious.
Sweet was the savour which his grace did give,
It season’d all the place where he did live.
His name did as an ointment give its smell,
And all bear witness that it savoured well.
Wisdom, love, meekness, friendly courtesy,
Each moral virtue, with rare piety,
Pure zeal, yet mixt with mildest clemency,
Did all conspire in this one breast to lie.
Deep was his knowledge, judgment was acute,
His doctrine solid, which none could confute.
To mind he gave light of intelligence,
And searched the corners of the conscience.
To sinners stout, which no law could bring under,
To them he was a son of dreadful thunder,
When all strong oaks of Bashan us’d to quake,
And fear did Lebanus his cedars shake;
The stoutest hearts he filled full of fears,
He clave the rocks, they melted into tears.
Yet to sad souls, with sense of sin cast down,
He was a son of consolation.
Sweet peace he gave to such as were contrite;
Their darkness sad he turned to joyous light.
Of preaching he had learn’d the rightest art,
To every one dividing his own part.
Each ear that heard him said, He spake to me:
So piercing was his holy ministry.
His life did shine, time’s changes stain’d it not,
Envy itself could not there find a spot.
Had he survived to finish works begun,
’T had been a blessing to all Christendom.
Then should the world have known what God had show’d him,
And what themselves for all his works had ow’d him.
But this unthankful age is now cut short
Of that rich treasure, ’cause they car’d not for ’t:
O that his love may turn us, yet to prize
The blessings yet enjoyed; herein be wise;
Lest that which he not long ago foretold,
Be now in us fulfill’d as ’twas of old,
That wantonness of churches, would bereave
Them of their ministers, without their leave,
God plaguing this his messenger’s contempt,
With this soul ’stroying plague and punishment.
But whatsoever wrath doth us abide,
Whatever plague for sin doth us betide;
Yet thou, O blessed saint, art now at rest,
I’ th’ bosom of thy Christ, which is the best;
Bathing in rivers of divine pleasure,
Which is at God’s right hand, most sweet and pure;
Tasting the fruit of all thy labours spent,
To honour God, which was thy whole intent.
From God thou camest forth, who sent thee hither.
And now hath called thee back to live together.
Him didst thou serve while life and breath did last,
With Him now blest, while life and breath is past.
Sense of our loss would call thee back again.
But out of love, we bid thee there remain,
Till we yet left behind our course fulfil,
To meet thee on the top of Zion’s hill;
When thou and we shall both rejoice together,
So fast united as no death shall sever;
Both to sing praises to our heavenly king,
Who hath us saved from death’s poisonous sting,
And will restore our bodies from the grave,
Which them to dust of death consumed have;
Making them shine like brightness of the sun
With glory, ne’er to end when once begun.
Let heaven and earth, angels and men him praise,
Sounding his glory past all length of days.
—P. B.13
| Previous chapter/page | Back | Home | Email this | Search | Discuss | Bookmark | Next chapter/page |