Thoughts Upon The Four Last Things Death; Judgment; Heaven; and Hell. A Poem In Four Parts. The Second Edition. To which are added, The I, CIV, and CXXXVII Psalms Paraphras'd [by Joseph Trapp] |
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 | Thoughts Upon The Four Last Things |  |
III. Part III. HEAVEN.
The ARGUMENT.
Impossible for Us in This World to form a Just Idea of the Glory, and Happiness of the Next. Sufficient for us to know, that it is perfect, and eternal Happiness. The Holy Scriptures, however, have given us some Glimpse, or faint Prospect of it. The New Jerusalem, as describ'd by St. John in the xxi, and xxii Chapters of the Revelation. A farther Poetical Description of Heaven. Allowable in Us to delineate it by the Things which are seen Here; since God Himself does so. The Beatific Vision glanc'd at, and pass'd over for the present. Degrees of Glory, and Happiness; Yet all that are in Heaven completely happy. No Envy There. Charity remains There; tho' Faith and Hope are extinct. Wherein consists the Happiness of the Blessed. In praising God. In Knowledge. In the Beatific Vision. That enlarged upon. Wherein it consists. The Ideal World. Seeing God, as He is. The Mystery of the Trinity reveal'd. Seemingly repugnant Attributes reconcil'd. The most eminent Persons There. Martyrs; Patriarchs; Prophets; Apostles; The Blessed Virgin. Famous, learned, and pious Clergymen. Laic Divines, who defended Christianity. Good Kings. Founders of Colleges; especially in Oxford, and Cambridge. Benefactors to the Corporation of the Sons of the Clergy. Queen Anne; especially for her Bounty to the Clergy. Founders of Hospitals in London. The peculiar Excellence of Charity. Pious Statesmen, and Patriots. Promiscuously, all the Vertuous, and Good. What it is to be truly Good. Christians, who differ'd in Opinion Here, may yet meet in Heaven Hereafter. Vertuous Heathens may be sav'd. More upon the Happiness of Heaven. God's amazing Goodness in so immensely rewarding so inconsiderable a Service. Without being Holy Here, we cannot, in the Nature of Things, be Happy Hereafter.
Extatic, with Celestial Visions blest,
Rapt into Heav'n, had of its Joys a Taste;
(O! how he wish'd it might forever last!)
There Things ineffable He heard, and saw;
To utter them transcended Nature's Law.
How then shall We, in Darkness, to whose View
That Curtain for a Moment ne'er withdrew,
Clog'd with thick Clay, whom Walls of Flesh immure,
Find Words to paint a Bliss divinely pure;
Which, tho' with Truth infallible believ'd,
Eye hath not seen, Ear heard, nor mortal Thought conceiv'd?
That Heav'n is Happiness without Allay;
More cannot be; and Heav'n affords no less.
Nor see as yet our Maker face to face;
Some Glimpse th'inspir'd Prophetick Pages give
Of That blest Life which There the Just shall live.
The Saint, who saw th'Apocalypse, beheld
(What Wonders to his Transports were reveal'd!)
The Holy City, New Jerusalem,
Which needed not the Son's enliv'ning Beam:
God's Glory, and the Lamb's wide-spreading Light
More than supply'd the Sun, and shone more bright.
The Church Triumphant There in Bliss shall reign;
No more of Death, of Sickness, Fear, or Pain;
No Sighs, no Wailings, no complaining Crys;
All Tears are wip'd forever from their Eyes.
Nought, but sincerest Joys, they There shall know;
Nor dread the Storms which grumbled Here below:
No longer shall the Soul to Earth be join'd;
Nor cumbrous Flesh weigh down the musing Mind.
City of God! (Thy Glories may we see!)
Things very excellent are spoke of Thee.
Deck'd like a Bride, all brillant She shall shine,
For her Celestial Spouse, with Gems divine.
The City, built by God, not made with Hands,
On twelve strong Jewels, rais'd as Pillars stands.
Diverse the Saphir, Ruby, Em'rald blaze;
The rest shoot forth their diff'rent-colour'd Rays.
Emboss'd on These, the Twelve Apostles' Names,
From the twelve dazling Jewels dart their Flames.
Less beamy, swelling in their Lustre, shone
Urim, and Thummim, when, his Pect'ral on,
And sparkled Oracles from Aaron's Breast.
Quadrangular, of Jasper, great, and tall,
Distinct with Turrets, stands the radiant Wall.
Twelve Gates of Pearl uplift their Heads on high,
Inscrib'd the Tribes of Israel; thro' the Sky
Disperse a mild, refreshing Light around;
And op'd, or shut, on Diamond Hinges sound.
At Each a beauteous Cherub Sentry waits;
Twelve Angels watch the twelve pellucid Gates.
The Streets, of Gold transparent, clear as Glass,
Illume the heav'nly People, as they pass.
Clearer than Crystal, thro' the Centre roll'd
On Gravel of smooth Pearl, and Sand of Gold,
Proceeding from the Lamb's, and God's fix'd Throne
(God, and the Lamb, Those great Mysterious One!)
A River, nam'd Life's River, gently flows:
The Tree of Life fast by its Margin grows;
Transplanted Hither from fair Eden's Soil,
When first fall'n Man was doom'd to Death, and Toil.
Twelve Fruits, which, one each Month, it's Branches bear,
With various Hue discriminate the Year.
No longer are the Passes to it barr'd;
Nor waves the flaming Sword; nor Cherubs guard.
From the Life-giving River, and the Tree,
Drink, and eat, Immortality, and Joy;
Delights, which always fill, and never cloy,
The Tree of Knowledge too is now no more
Prohibited; but, as it shines all o'er
With Fruit inviting to the rich Repast,
Carrys not Death, but Life, to All that taste.
God's City This: That Name to It is giv'n;
The great Metropolis, and Court of Heav'n.
Yet Citys more, unnumber'd, Here have place,
Thick, scatter'd thro' the wide Empyrial Space:
All glorious, shining all with outstretch'd Rays,
Reflecting on each other Blaze for Blaze;
Peopled by Saints, and Angels: Yet All come
To This, as to their chief celestial Home,
Free Denizens. Nor less are These Abodes,
Seats of innumerable little Gods,
Diversify'd with loveliest Rural Scenes,
Plains, Mountains, Valleys, everlasting Greens;
Woods, Groves, Lawns, Rivers, Brooks, and murm'ring Rills:
God's Praises they resound in fragrant Bow'rs,
And Fields enamel'd with immortal Flow'rs;
Hold sweetest Converse under pendant Shades;
And hear soft Musick warble thro' the Glades.
Fancy's fond Imag'ry! how weak, how faint!
What is with Innocence delightful Here
We raise to Heav'n, and dream it must be There.
Perhaps it may—But whether So, or Not;
'Tis That, or Better—what no human Thought
Can figure, or conceive: Be This our Stay,
“That Heav'n is Happiness without Allay;
“Perfect, Complete, Eternal Happiness;
“More cannot Be, and Heav'n affords no Less.
Has so delineated our future Heav'n;
That, while we look thro' This corporeal Screen,
The Things we see should shadow Things unseen:
Rivers of Pleasures—Banquets—Diadems—
Magnific Buildings—Thrones—White Robes—and Gems—
It Now appears not What we Then shall be;
But This we know; that God we There shall see.
See God Himself! and see Him as He is!
This too we know, that, chang'd by Pow'r Divine,
Our Bodys glorify'd like Stars shall shine:
But not alike—As Stars, tho' All shine bright,
Differ in Glory, and Degrees of Light;
So shall th'ethereal Bodys of the Blest:
Yet Envy There can harbour in no Breast;
Envy by mutual Love is quite supprest.
Each other's Happiness they All enjoy;
But Envy would their Happiness destroy.
Like the Angelick Orders shall be ours;
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Vertues, Pow'rs:
These high, Those low, These greater, and Those less;
Yet All in full, consummate Happiness.
From This Subordination Beauty springs;
And Harmony, the gen'ral Mind of Things.
Sound there might be, but Musick could be none:
Th'harmonious Discord would be lost, That Soul,
That sweet Result, and Issue of the Whole.
Thus in unequal Orbs the Saints shall move;
Yet All roll round in That First Mover, Love.
Forever blessing, and forever blest;
Thou hast a whole Eternity in store,
When holy Faith, and Hope shall be no more:
Hope in Fruition, Faith in Vision lost;
Immortal Thou shalt reign thro' Heav'n's bright Host.
As yet abide Faith, Hope, sweet Charity;
The Last, ev'n Here, the greatest of the Three:
There of the Three the Last alone shall live,
And ever-during Joys receive, and give.
So in Man's wond'rous Frame three Souls are wrought;
For Vegetation, This; That, Sense; That, Thought;
To all) These die, when This short Life is past:
Only the Intellectual, Thinking Soul
Mounts up, and soars above the starry Pole;
The Empyrean's dazling Summit gains,
And high in Heav'n to endless Ages reigns.
2 Cor. xii. 2, &c. I knew a Man in Christ, &c. St. Paul certainly speaks of Himself; as is allow'd by Every body.
See Rev. xxi. throughout, and Chap. xxii. to Ver. 6. From which This Description is taken; one Design of the inspir'd Writer is undoubtedly to delineate, in a prophetical, and mystical manner, the State of the Church here on Earth. But it has likewise (as most learned Commentators agree) a View to the Church Triumphant in Heaven.
Exod. xxviii. 30. Urim means Fire, and Light; Thummim, Perfection. They were precious Stones, in the Pectoral, or Breast-place of Aaron, and the High-Priests his Successors. When God was consulted by it, the Protuberancy, and bright Shining of the Jewels shew'd an Answer in the Affirmative; the Contrary in the Negative; according to Josephus, and Others. But I have not Time (nor does my Subject require it) to be more particular upon This difficult Point.
Col. i. 16. The Word Vertues is not in the Text. But That is immaterial. The Verse is Milton's; in many Places of his Paradise Lost. It expresses the several Orders of Angels.
According to the ancient Astronomy (the Ptolemaic System) the Primum Mobile (First Moveable, and Mover) whirls round in its Orbit all the Stars, of all Magnitudes; tho' they have different Orbits, and Motions of their own.
Theme inexhaustible of sacred Lays.
Prostrate before his holy Hill, his Throne,
They sing His Glory, and improve their Own.
Knowledge, by Men with so much Passion lov'd,
The Minds of the Beatify'd shall bless
Still more; No Fear of Surfeit, or Excess.
The Understanding, Appetite, and Will,
Tho' resting on their Object, farther still,
Farther, and farther, infinitely tend,
Thro' long Eternity; no Bound, no End:
Prospects on Prospects rising to the View,
Then awful Mysterys shall be reveal'd,
Which Now in Clouds and Darkness are conceal'd:
New Lustre shed on each obscurer Text,
So long in vain by learned Comments vex'd;
God's Book inspir'd shall, like Himself, all bright,
Shine from the Centre, one clear Globe of Light.
Shall we find Words thy Wonders to declare?
Impossible: This perfect, highest Good
Can never, 'till Enjoy'd, be Understood.
See the Invisible? No; not as Men
Each other see; but with Angelick Ken,
With the Mind's Eye. Ev'n to Corporeal Sight,
With Emanations of transcendent Light,
He who is God, as well as Man, shall shine;
His glorious Body darting Rays divine,
Thro' the immeasurable Space: As We
Like Stars of diff'rent Magnitudes shall be,
The radiant Sun to all Those Stars is He:
The Sun of Righteousness —But This the least:
The Mind with God's bright Vision shall be blest.
Here we know nought, but This, that nought we know)
Shall open to our View: Th'Eternal Mind
The Scheme, and Archetypes of Things, design'd
E'er yet fair Nature's Frame from Nothing rose,
Shall to our wond'ring Eyes at once disclose.
Some think (let Thinking still be truly free)
Ev'n Here in God alone we all things see.
Most certain This; Th'Eternal Mind survey'd
All Things within Himself, e'er Aught was made;
Form'd in Himself the universal Plan,
From the most senseless Insect, up to Man.
There then, the Copys lost, with glad Amaze
We on the bright Originals shall gaze;
See Nature, when all Nature is dissolv'd;
See Time in vast Eternity involv'd:
See the exteriour Form, th'internal Pow'rs
Of Simples; and the fragrant Souls of Flow'rs:
And Intellectual Suns in beauteous Order roll.
All other Things we shall behold in God:
Himself, Himself, we in Himself shall view,
The Same forever, yet forever New:
We then shall know, as We ourselves are known,
Th'immense, ineffable One-three, Three-one;
A bless'd Society in Himself alone:
See how the Father is the Fountain; how
From Him, in Him, the Son, and Spirit flow:
How 'tis They differ, how They are the same.
Great Holy, Holy, Holy, glorious Name;
Clear, lucid Fount of Good, Eternal Mind,
Perfection of all Beauties in Thee joyn'd;
The Spring of Life essential dwells in Thee,
And in Thy Light we purest Light shall see:
Deeper, and deeper, and yet deeper still,
Forever gaze; and never gaze our Fill.
Thy Nature, and Thy Essence, without End
We shall contemplate, never comprehend.
Yet This an Indigence, which gives no Pain;
Not Pain, but Happiness: For more, and more
The Saints are blest, yet still have Bliss in Store.
Diff'rent indeed God's Happiness must be;
Fulness in Him, without Satiety:
For in whatever State, whate'er Abode,
Creatures must still be Creatures, God be God.
Shall There of all Repugnancy be clear'd:
Truth, Holiness, and Wisdom reconcile
Mercy with Justice; All in Concord smile:
Mercy and Justice kiss each other There;
And Vengeance shine, as lovely, as severe.
Shall Thus a whole Eternity employ?
Nearest his Throne, around, and at his Feet,
The Noble Army of the Martyrs sit;
Patriarchs, Apostles, Prophets, all That Host,
Who for their Saviour did, and suffer'd most.
The Virgin Mother of the World's great Lord,
Forever honour'd, only not ador'd,
In awful Beauty smiles, with sweetest Grace;
Th'incarnate Godhead light'ning in her Face.
And Piety; who, with true Zeal inflam'd,
With solid Judgment cool'd, maintain'd God's Cause
Against his Enemys, and preach'd his Laws.
By their illustrious Labours, which survive
Their mortal Life, and with the World shall live,
Sham'd the proud Scorner, Heresies refell'd,
And from th'obscurer Text the Clouds dispell'd;
Sav'd Others' Souls, and more than sav'd their Own.
Angelick Taylor, Hammond, Sanderson,
Great Pearson, Bramhall, Usher, Walton, Poole;
But chiefly, bright, acute, sagacious Bull.
Charm'd, and improv'd, on thy Instructive Tongue,
Enjoy'd thy rev'rend Mirth, thy Converse sweet,
May I Above thy honour'd Figure greet;
Concurring, tho' in far inferior Lays,
To celebrate th'Eternal Triad's Praise:
To sing th'Almighty's Praise we There may join;
I cannot Here be just in singing Thine.
Fain would I sooner have receiv'd my Birth;
That what from Thee my Youth unpractis'd learn'd,
My riper Years might better have discern'd:
Perhaps for Time mispent I less had griev'd,
Like Thee had study'd, and like Thee had liv'd;
Nearer, in Age, I to the Grave should be;
But nearer, in good Works, to Heav'n, and Thee.
Laic Divines, a glorious, shining Band;
Who, warm'd with Piety, with Learning fraught,
God's Servants, tho' not Priests, his Battles fought;
Those his Brave voluntary Soldiers, Those
Who, not oblig'd by Office, quell'd his Foes.
Boyle, Grotius, Nelson, wonderful Pascal;
Learn'd, pious, humble, venerable Hale.
Hale! Who to Thee can Thy due Praises grudge,
Deep Theologue, Philosopher, and Judge?
Advanc'd to England's highest Judgment-Seat,
How could'st Thou write, as in obscure Retreat?
So write, that Thee we read, with pleasing Awe,
Preacher of Gospel, Oracle of Law?
In highest Heav'n, than They who wore one Here?
Not Slaves to sordid Av'rice, Pride, and Lust;
But Wise, and Good; who only fill'd a Throne,
To make their People's Happiness their Own.
Who to God's Church true nursing Fathers prov'd,
His Temples built, his Priests rever'd, and lov'd:
Who joy'd to make their Subjects' Wealth increase;
And wag'd not Wars, for Glory, but for Peace:
Promoted Learning, Vertue, Courage, Worth
Of ev'ry Kind—Like Suns shall These shine forth;
Shall ev'n in Heav'n their regal Titles hold,
Add Crowns of Glory to their Crowns of Gold;
In That New World, with sublimated Bliss,
More honour'd reign, because They reign'd in This.
Of Piety's, and Learning's sweet Retreats;
Chiefly of Those, where gentle Isis glides,
And winding Cam the flow'ry Meads divides;
With These shall triumph. Their Reward how vast,
Whose Bounty with the World itself shall last!
Whose planning Heads, and large munific Hearts
Polish'd Mankind with Sciences, and Arts;
Priests, Prelates, Patriots, Statesmen, Heroes, bred.
Those, who Wintonia's Mitre glorify'd;
Great Wickham, Wainflet, Fox, Wintonia's Pride!
Wickham, the Prince of All who ever laid
Learning's Foundations, since the World's were made:
England's Sixth Henry, Richmond's Princely Dame
Marg'ret, and Chichley of immortal Fame:
And pious Wadham—Hail! lov'd, honour'd Pair!
You with the Greatest shall due Honours share.
May I in Heav'n (You gave my Muse her Birth)
Your Faces see, whose Bread I ate on Earth:
Meanwhile from Earth accept This grateful Praise,
The meanest of Your letter'd Offspring pays.
O Shame, and Guilt that They such Alms should need!
Their Orphans, and their Widows, tho' still scant
Of Living, feel less Penury, and Want,
Somewhat refresh'd by ev'n This little Store;
And in less Bitterness of Soul deplore.
Beneficent, wise Turner, Thou the Chief,
And many More who add to This Relief;
If aught of Fame true Gratitude can give,
Your Honour, Name, and Praise shall ever live.
'Twere Guilt, should pious Anna be unsung.
Anna, of fragrant Mem'ry, ever blest,
How did God's Glory warm Thy sacred Breast!
The Church how lov'd by Thee! Like Thee, None rose
To lessen her impoverish'd Clergy's Woes;
Since first (O! be Heav'n's Wrath for That appeas'd)
Her Spoils by Sacrilegious Hands were seis'd.
Methinks, ev'n Now I see Thy gracious Mien;
The Saint confess'd, and smiling in the Queen;
Expressive of Thy great, and humble Mind;
And awful Majesty with Sweetness join'd.
Thy Truly English Heart, Thy Christian Zeal.
Thy Bounty to Heav'n's Priests has more of Charms
Than the long Triumphs of Thy conqu'ring Arms;
More ev'n than That which bade War's Ravage cease,
And gave the harrass'd World to taste of Peace.
The bless'd Effects of well-expended Gold.
The Poor, the Lame, the Blind, the Lunatic,
The Ignorant, the Wounded, and the Sick,
How are they Here reliev'd! How great Reward
Must Them await, who Remedys prepar'd
To soften miserable Life, and heal
The various Ills which wretched Mortals feel!
Pious Sixth Edward, of These Donors First,
His Thousand sees in his fam'd Fabrick nurs'd;
His Largess still increas'd by fresh Supplys—
To well-purg'd Minds, and rightly-judging Eyes,
How much more lovely must his Blue appear,
Then all the Pride that purple Monarchs wear!
O mighty Henry—May'st thou be in Heav'n.
Yet ah!—But stop, indignant Muse, forbear;
Look on St. Barthol'mew's, and think him There.
How beauteous stands That still increasing Pile;
While round it Charity, and Goodness smile!
Govern'd by Worthys, who, as They dispense
For Others, add their Own Munificence;
And, studious to diminish human Woe,
Think it less Praise to Rule, than to Bestow.
Lifts Man to Heav'n, and peoples Half the Sky.
So great it's Influence; at the Last great Day,
The Judge seems all his Stres on That to lay.
“Come Ye, my Blessed—You the Naked cloath'd—
“Depart, Ye Cursed—You That Office loath'd.—
As if all Vertues center'd in This One;
Or Heav'n were due to Charity alone.
Treasure in Heav'n wouldst thou on Earth secure?
Be lib'ral of thy Treasure to the Poor.
Such Works, tho' posthumous, have sure Reward;
But richer is the Crown for Those prepar'd,
Who lest their Wealth, before their Wealth left Them;
Who built their Charity on Life, not Death;
And rather chose to give, than to bequeath.
To pious Statesmen are their Seats assign'd.
But These alas! how few!—Yet Such have been—
Unlike a Machiavel, or Mazarine.
Such was good Walsingham; Some few beside;
Southampton, and th'Integrity of Hyde.
Who acted, with deep Heads, and honest Hearts,
At once the Courtier's, and the Patriot's Parts;
As prompt t'obey, as execute the Laws,
And equal 'twixt the Crown's, and People's Cause:
The Rights of Both industrious to maintain,
Of Both th'unjust Encroachments to restrain.
Made Vertue look more lovely, and more fair;
Well knowing that, to gain in Heav'n a Seat,
They must be Good, as well as Wise, and Great.
Who dy'd repentant, God sincerely lov'd;
The Humble, and the Just—In fine the Good.
But let That Word be rightly understood:
To make us such, all Vertues must concur;
And persevering to the last endure:
Ev'n Charity is, tho' the Chief, but One;
And He who has not All, has truly None.
Contending, strove each other to confute,
May greet Above, clasp'd in Embraces dear,
And wonder how they meet each other There.
God's Thoughts are not contracted, narrow, blind,
Like mortal Men's—Ev'n Pagan Vertue, join'd
With Ignorance sincere, Reward may find.
There Saint-like Socrates, and Cyrus, best
Of Heathens, and great Tully may be blest;
And wise Vespasian, and his pious Son
Titus, whose worthy Deeds such Glory won:
And sacred Virgil, sacred in his Verse
At least, Messiah's Praises may rehearse;
Whose Birth in Ignorance He sung so well.
The Merchant, sav'd from Wreck, enjoys the Storm;
Tho' still, in future Voyages, expos'd
By future Winds, and Billows to be toss'd:
How great the Exultations of the Blest!
What Transports must dilate each ravish'd Breast;
When they look back upon the Waves, the Rocks,
They have escap'd; Temptation's violent Shocks,
Temptations, from the World, the Devil, Themselves;
The Quicksands they have pass'd, the Gulphs, the Shelves!
When Dangers now can threaten them no more,
Forever landed on their final Shore!
How must They God's unbounded Goodness praise,
Who Thus the little Services o'erpays
Ev'n of the Best!—A poor, defective, lame
Obedience—Endless Glory can it claim?
Eternal Happiness? O Depth! Abyss
Of Mercy infinite! Eternal Bliss!
For What? For Nothing; for Infirmities
At best; imperfect Vertue, stain'd with Vice.
Sincerity was all they had to plead,
Join'd with Repentance. Heav'n! art Thou the Meed
So listless, and with so much Languor, ran?
Yes; Faith assures us; and it will be so:
How should our Hearts with Gratitude o'erflow!
Nay more; a late Repentance, if sincere,
And join'd with Reformation, crowns us There.
Those who in Vice confirm'd had well nigh spent
Their Term of Life, just living to Repent;
Who (their remaining Time almost too short)
Scarce tugg'd their half-wreck'd Vessel into Port;
Shall yet gain Heav'n. But risque not There thy Fate:
A true Repentance never is too late—
Acknowledg'd—But be This remember'd too,
A late Repentance is but seldom true.
In his Affections, must be Here refin'd:
Habits, deep-rooted when This World we leave,
Will, in the Next, forever to us cleave.
God will not change our Natures, tho' improve.
By his own Action He will purge our Dross;
Unless by Sin we made ourselves too gross.
“None without Holiness shall see the Lord—
“The pure in heart alone—The rest abhorr'd.
Can He, can Purity itself, endure
Aught in his Presence, filthy, or impure?
Behold the Sun; It shines not in his Eyes;
The Stars roll Globes of Darkness thro' the Skys.
Or grant He could—Suppose a Soul from God
Abhorrent, plac'd in That sublime Abode:
Suppose on Teneriff's high Top a Whale;
See how the Rocks he lashes with his Tail,
Heaves his broad Gills, and pants for thicker Air:
Ev'n so the Carnaliz'd in Heav'n would fare.
For the foul Glutton's, and the Drunkard's Taste?
Can Lust, and Av'rice, and infernal Pride
With Food of Angels be beatify'd?
Can meagre Envy, Malice, and fell Hate
Enjoy the Love, and Dearness of That State?
No; Curst with Happiness, with Glory's Shine
More black, in Am'ranth Shades they would repine;
With haggard Eyes, and aking Sight behold
The glitt'ring Turrets of celestial Gold:
Thrill'd with the Musick of th'ethereal Quires,
Would gnash their Teeth amidst th'Angelick Lyres;
Implore, of Those bright Tortures to be eas'd;
And seek ev'n Hell, from Heav'n to be releas'd.
To meet, and mix with Elemental Fire;
So Souls, inspir'd by Vertue, upwards move,
And mingle with their kindred Minds above;
By their own proper Motion seek the Sphere
Of endless Happiness, and centre There:
Happy They were ev'n in Themselves before;
And only Heav'n's full Joys can bless them more.
It may be ask'd; If they rest upon their Object, how can they tend farther? I answer; They rest upon their general object; knowing they shall always be satisfy'd in the Main; and yet are perpetually entertain'd with new, fresh, particular Objects.
See P. Malebranche's Recherche de la Verité; and the most learned, ingenious, and pious Mr. Norris's Theory of the Intelligible, or Ideal World. Whatever becomes of the Doctrine of our Seeing all things in God, in This Life: it is certain from his being Creator of all things, that He must have in Himself the Ideas of all things; and in the next Life perhaps we may see those Ideas in Him.
Dr. Jeremy Taylor, Bp. of Down and Connor in Ireland; Dr. Henry Hammond, design'd Bp. of Worcester by K. Charles II. but dy'd just before the Restoration; Dr. Robert Sanderson, Regius Professor of Divinity in Oxford, and afterwards Bp. of Lincoln; Dr. John Pearson, Bp. of Chester; Dr. James Ushes, and Dr. John Bramhall, successive Primates of Ireland; Dr. Brian Walton, Compiler of the Polyglott Bible, and Bp. of Chester; Men of extraordinary Learning, and Piety; whose Works are sufficiently known to the World. Mr. Matthew Poole of London, a Nonconformist, but a Man of immense Learning, and great Judgment; and no less Humility and Piety; Author of That stupendous Work entitled Synopsis Criticorum, &c. a most noble Collection of Commentarys upon the holy Scriptures.
Dr. George Bull made Bp. of St. David's by Q. Anne. His immortal Works are well known to all the World; as are his exemplary Piety, Humility, and Charity, to All who had the Happiness of his Acquaintance. His acquired Learning was vastly great; but his natural acute Parts, and solid Judgment, greater. See his Life written by Mr. Nelson: To which many Things might be added.
His Person, and Aspect were distinguishingly engaging. The Print before his Works is the perfect Image of him: only it wants That Sweetness of Countenance, which always accompany'd his delightful Conversation.
The Honourable Robert Boyle, Esq; Founder of the Lecture against Atheism and Infidelity; Hugo Grotius, a Hollander, one of the most learned Men that ever liv'd; Robert Nelson, Esq; Author of the Companion to the Festivals and Fasts, &c. Monsieur Pascal, a Frenchman, a Man of amazing Parts, and Seraphic Piety.
the Right Honourable Sir Matthew Hale, Lord Chief Justice of England: The Honour of our Country; One of the greatest Lawyers, Divines, and Philosophers, and one of the best Christians, this Nation ever bred. His Works in Divinity are, Contemplations Moral, and Divine; The Knowledge of God, and of Ourselves; The Origination of Mankind, &c.
William of Wickham, Bishop of Winchester, Lord Treasurer, and Lord High Chancellor of England; Founder of New College in Oxford, and of its Sister College near Winchester; which, together, are the noblest Seminary of Learning in Christendom. William of Wainflet, Founder of That Illustrious Society, Magdalen-College in Oxford. Richard Fox, Founder of Corpus Christi College in Oxford.
K. Henry VI. Founder of King's College in Cambridge, and Eton-College near Windsor. Margaret Countess of Richmond; Founder of St. John's and Christ's Colleges in Cambridge. Henry Chichely, Archbishop of Canterbury, Founder of All Souls College in Oxford. Nicholas Wadham, Esq; and Dorothy his Wife, Founders of Wadham-College in Oxford.
Dr. Thomas Turner, President of Corpus Christi College in Oxford gave 22,000l. to the Corporation of the Sons of the Clergy.
In one of her first Speeches to her Parliament (the very First, as I remember) She said Her Heart was Entirely English. Which She abundantly verify'd by the Tenor of her Actions; particularly by her allowing, as a free Gift to her Subjects, 100000 l. per Annum out of her own private Revenue, for the Service of the Publick.
This is not in the least intended to lessen the Value and Excellence of Those Charitys which are left by Will, or to detract from the just Praise of those who leave them. Very often they cannot do otherwise; with regard to their own Familys, and Relations, and even to themselves. But, other Circumstances being equal, it is certainly best, and most acceptable to God and Man, to give in one's Life-Time; for Reasons too obvious to be mention'd, and which, I suppose, will be deny'd by No-body.
Sir Francis Walsingham, Secretary of State to Q. Elizabeth; who was a most able Statesman, and true Patriot; and dy'd very poor. Earl of Southampton, in the Reigns of K. Charles the First, and Second. Sir Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon (Author of the famous History) and Lord High Chancellour of England.
This was the Doctrine of Plato, Virgil, and Others among the ancient Heathen Philosophers; and Christian Divines have made it clear, and evident. Dr. Scott's Christian Life, in particular, is entirely built upon This Principle. The Thing indeed is so agreeable to Reason; that the Contrary can scarce be conceived possible. And This shews the Absolute Necessity of our being Vertuous, and Holy: Since without it we are, in the Nature of Things, incapable of being Happy. God Himself cannot make us so, without changing our Nature by Miracle: Which is impossible; because it is inconsistent with his own infinite Perfections: Because it would be absurd, and irrational for him to do so.
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