University of Virginia Library

POEMS FROM JOSEPH TOMPSON'S MANUSCRIPT JOURNAL

“Anagram made by mr John Willson of Boston upon the Death of Mrs Abigaill Tompson, And sent to her husband in uirginia, while he was sent to preach the gospell yr.”

i am gon to all bliss

The blessed news i send to the is this:
That i am goon from the unto all bliss,
Such as the saints & angells do enjoy,
Whom neither Deuill, world, nor flesh anoiy.
To bliss of blisses i am goon: to him
Who as a bride did for him selfe me trimm.
Thy bride i was, a most unworthy one,
But to a better bridegroom i am gon,
Who doth a Count me worthy of him selfe,
Tho i was neuer such a worthles elfe.
He hath me Cladd with his own Righteousness,
And for the sake of it he doth me bless.
Thou didst thy part to wash me, but his grace
Hath left no spott nor wrincle on my face.
Thou little thinkst, or Canst at all Conceiue,
What is the bliss that i do now receiue.
When oft i herd thē preach & pray & sing
I thought that heauen was a glorious thing,
And i belieud, if any knew, twas thou
That knewest what a thing it was; but now
I se thou sawest but a glimps, and hast
No more of heauen but a little tast,
Compāred with that which hear we see & haue,
Nor Canst haue more till thou art past the graue.
Thou neuer touldst me of the Tyth, nor yet
The hundred thousand thousand part of it.
Alas, Dear Soule, how short is all the fame
Of the third heauens, where i translated amm!
O, if thou euer louest me at all,
Whom thou didst by such loueing titles Call,
Yea, if thou louest Christ, (as who doth more?)
Then do not thou my Death too much deplore.
Wring not thy hand, nor sigh, nor mourn, nor weep,
All tho thine Abigaill be faln a sleep.
Tis but her body—that shall ryse again;
In Christs sweet bosomb doth her soule remain.
Mourn not as if thou hadst no hope of me;
Tis i, tis i haue Caus to pitty thee.
O turne thy sighings into songs of prais
Unto the name of god; lett all thy Days
Be spent in blessing of his name for thiss:
That he hath brought me to this place of bliss.
It was a blessed, a thrice blessed, snow
Which to the meeting i then waded through,
When piercd i was upon my naked skinn
Up to the middle, the deep snow within.
There neuer was more happie way i trodd,
That brought me home so soone unto my god
Instead of Braintry Church; Conducting mee
Into a better Church, where now i see,
Not sinfull men, But Christ & those that are
Fully exempt from euery spot & skarr
Of sinfull guilt, where i no longer need
Or word or seale my feeble soul to feede,
But face to face i do behould the lamb,
Who down from heauen for my saluation Came,
And thither is asended up again,
Me to prepare a place whear in to Raign,
Where we do allways hallaluiahs sing,
Where i do hope for the to Come err long
To sing thy part in this most glorious song.

“transcribed march 2, 1722–3, upon thr Death of my Dear honoured father, Mr William Tompson, pastor of the Church of Christ in Braintry, Decemb. 10, 1666, whose dying words were: ‘loue the lamb, loue, loue the lamb.’ pend by that holy man of god, Mr John Willson, the first pastor unto ye first Church in boston, that holy reuerend man of god.”

Anagram i: William Tompson, most holy paule mine.

Most holy paule, mine answer was,
In my temptacions all,
When as the deuill tempted me,
As much or more then paul.
He did acount himselfe to be
Of sinners all the Chief;
So i my selfe accounted, yet
How great was his relief!
Nor did the lord Count it enōgh
To show him so much grace,
But mongst his one ambasadors
Gaue him a specill place,
And all his labours did so bless,
As none Conuerted more,
Amongst the gentiles, to the faith—
From heauen he had such power.
And me, unworthy me, the lord
Did pardon through Christs blood;
Yea, as his messenger he sent
To do his people good
In england ould, that found it so
There hath bene not a few,
Nor hath his blessing been with held
From me in England new.
And as paule exercised was
With trials more then any,
So he was pleased to uisit me
With trials more then many:
Not onely persecutions
Of proud malignant foos,
But he hath let the deuill loose
Me strongly to oppose,
As he did paule with buffeting
That he was black and blew,
So that he was at his wits end
And knew not what to do.
He prayed once, yea, twice, yea, thrice,
With Cryes importunate,
Yet Could not his requests obtain
In his forlorn estate.
His troubles still remaind and he
Was tempted more & more
With diabolicoll Assalts
Which uexed him full sore,
And all the answer which ye lord
Or first or last did giue him,
Was this: that with suphicient grace
His spirit should reliue him,
And Satan, when he did his worst,
Should not so far preuaile
As that gods fauour or pauls faith
Him utterly should faile.
No more it did; no more did mine,
Tho sumtimes I did think,
In midst of my temptacions
I utterly should sink.
How is it els, that all this while
So many Darts of hell
Haue not preuailed from my hart
Gods spirit to expel?
How is it els, with uiolenc
My self i did not kill?
Which was the deuils strong deuice
Might he have had his will.
How is it els, that all this while
I Cast not of the lord,
Tho he hath seemd to cast of me,
As of his soule abhord,
But in my hart haue loued him,
As peter eu'n then did
When as his tong once, twise, yea, thrice,
So fowly him denied?
And still his word, his ministers,
His ordinances, saints,
Haue still to me bene uery dear
In saddest of my plaints.
O, let not any think that I
Was quite of god forsaken,
Tho with such lamentable fits
I was so long o're taken.

William Tompson Lo my ionah slumpt Anagr 2

For lo! my ionah how he slumpt,
In seas and whale so deep,
Becaus the lords Comandement
He did refuse to keep.
And i oft did, and do, Confess
That i no less deserued,
As haueing from the duties of
My Calling no less swerued.
No maruell then that j was cast
Into the sea & whale,
And that such horrid, hellish darts
Against me did preuail.
But ionah in those wofull depths
Did pray unto his god,
And so haue I done, often times,
Under his heauie rod.
How peuish & peruers was he,
But not so much as I,
That haue Contested with the lord
& stood out, stood out stubornly.
Yet, o dear brethren that suruiue,
Do not acount me lost,
Whome Christ redemed by his blood,
And at so great a Cost,
Throw price where of, as ionah did
A pardon full obtain,
So do i now: in Christ his lap
My soul doth now remain.
With ionah now Ime Cast ashore;
The whale Could not me keep;
But in my sauiour iesus Christ,
I swetly fell asleep.
If paul & ionah will not serue
To satisfie your mind,
Concider job, & be not like
To his unfriendly friends.
Becaus he was in satans hand
So long in deep distress,
They iudged him an hipocrite,
And sum think me no less.
But iob was job from first to last,
Highly by god approued,
By whome his most Censorious friends
Most sharply wear reproued.
As iob was gold, when at the first,
God Cast him in the fire,
So forth he came as gold most pure,
E'uen as you would desire;
And in his sore temptation,
Once & againe he spake
As if the man of patients
Were weary of his yoake;
Yet well we know how god made his
Captiuitye return,
And doubly he did recompenc
What long did make him mourn.
O, what a blessed end did god
For his pore seruant make,
And of pore me, not less but more
Compassion did he take;
For now, amongst his angels all
& saints, in heauen j sing
With solemn hallalugies to
My reconciled king.
Concider Asaph with heman,
Good jerymy & Dauid,
How deep and long theire Terrours were,
Yet they wear surely sauid.
Concider Mary Magdelen,
With seuen foul fiends posest,
What wear her moanes, her syghs & tears:
Yet found she happie rest,
Concider, hard by Christ his Cross,
The miserable thiefe:
But who had from his mouth & hand
A more Compleat releif?
Yea, pray, Concider Christ himself,
The prince of our saluation:
Was euer soul or body in
So great a tribulation?
Of men, yea, & of god him self,
O how was he forsaken!
Yet from his hellish Torments all,
At last to heauen up taken
To highest glory; twas in him
That I did put my trust,
And in his righteousnes i stood
Before my father just,
When at the lowest ebb; and now
My soul with him doth rest,
Of joys & Consolations
Unspeakably posest.