University of Virginia Library

A Character of the most Exemplary Christian, Mr. Samuel Tompson.

Deacon of the Church in Braintree who Deceased June 18. 1695. AEtatis. 64.

'Tis not bare custom which provokes my Pen
To lisp the praises of this Man of men
Nor can it in the least advantage him
Whose Soul in Rivers of Delight doth Swim
But such Examples set before this Age
And me in special wel deserv'd a Page
Plainness and Purity were his delight
Least I offend his Ghost, plainly I write
I write no Hero's, or Terrestrial Peers
Let them be flatter'd by more learned tears
But the translation of one to his place
Who in Gods fear and favour ran his race
An Entercourse with Heav'n mannag'd by Art
And tedious pains of most he did by heart
The morning of his Life's aspireing years
Commenc'd in prayers, and Penitential tears
When but a Child and Mates had led to play
His Spirit prompted him to Read and Pray
His Youth so spotless in such Years transpir'd
As rendred him improv'd, belov'd, admir'd
Whome fitter for the Church, the Court the Field
Of a more upright Life, did Braintree yeild
It boasted Once of a most worthy Store
Blest Tompson, Flynt, the rare presiding Hoare
Rich Jewels: thou of such hast been possest
Whose Weary heads are all layd down to Rest
Make room Renowned's who our Crowns have been
In the same Page to let this Christian in
Whome you all knew, and lov'd, wer't in a fitt
Of Melancholy when these lines were writt
Grave Tompson, were clouds ever in that place
Thy sons arrival sure would clear thy Face
He liv'd under the Umbrage of a Wing
Whose great delight to preach, to pray, to Sing
Thousands in Lancashire 'yond Sea did know
Who in darke times did to such torches flow
And now the Precious Father, and Blest Son
Know whither, and for what they fought and run
Were ever Heav'ns by fair endeavors won
If Prayers could storm it, sure 'twas by this man
But when his hand of Faith those doors had bounced
And wrestled stoutly, yet he all renounc'd
His house was Morn, Noon, Night perfum'd with Prayers
And seconded with Heav'ns Melodious Aires
The sacred Text was Read and Opened so
As sundry stil'd Divines could hardly do
In conferences with his holy Friends
Assistance from sweet Manuscripts he lends
Such as would Old and Modern Preachers heare
Might find the Kernel and the marrow there
With great Affections urged on the hearts
And Balsom poured in after sharp Darts
His Charity was General and Vast
With so small a stock how could it last
By Prayer his secret Key the Heav'ns unlock't
And when most Empty, seldom better stockt
Assistances to poor he ne're denie'd
And few such places where it might be try'd
His soundness in the Faith Divines did Own
Who hath abridg'd their labours One by One
And Ancient Nectarists whose mouths are stopt
Extending fruitfull boughs by him were cropt
Theyr fruit more choice then Pearls with him even
His Manuscripts I call their Magazeen.
Where Honey dropt this painfull Bee was found
Loading his thighs for all his Neighbours round
How many weekly did with him rejoyce
Loveing to see his face, and hear his voice
To Lamentations now our harps are sett
And chearfull Anthems we almost forgett
We can as hardly sing with hiarty thanks
As Israel on the Babilonish Banks
So much of God is from poor Braintree fled
As may be sighed for, more free then sed
His Empty place in Church in Court, in field
By many teares have every day been fill'd
And poor distressed I, O where, O where!
Shall I find friendly hand, or faithfull Eare
Whome shall the poor seek to in pinching grief
Whome the distressed to Obtain reliefe
Whome shall the Widow make her trusty friend
And hand a Prayer at a dead lift to lend,
Here was of Charity a liveing Spring
Whose motives round the Greater wheels did bring
His presence, parts, and Prayers are dearly mist
Who could like Luther have what'ere he list
How would he screw into each hearers brest
When he with fervency Our sins confest
What melting streams of Arguments there flew
From his own heart, as if he others knew.
Such Instruments, so qualifie'd are rare
And very few fall to one Churches share
Predictions I affect not, though I dread
The places publick peace now he is dead
Who lov'd and studied Unity so well
The peace is threatened where this prop is fell
Lord grant us Succour to our sinking hearts
Drop in thy Balsom while we feel thy Darts
Answer the prayers this Blessed Saint hath made
Our Soules let Rest with his when we are laid.