The Virgins Pattern in the Life and Death of Susanna Perwich

The exemplary Iafe, and lamented Death of Mistress Susanna Perwich, Daughter of Robert Perwich, of Hackney, in the County of Middlesex, Gent. who died a rarely accomplished Virgin, at one of the clock in the afternoon, on Wednesday, the 3. of July, 1661. in the 25. year of her Age.

SHE was born upon the 23. day of Sept. in the year of our Lord, 1636. in the Parish of Aldermanbury, London; where, having by the care and cost of her Pa • ents been sent to School to learn to read • s soon as capable thereof; this was remarkable in her at that tender age, that she • old needs learn by hearing and observing others rather than by the teaching o • her Mistress, taking a delight it seems t • get her learning altogether by her own industry; yea, so impatient she was of bein • instructed by any, that she would altogether refuse their help, and yet rested no • till she had attained to an ability of reading Scripture, full as well and as distinctly as any of her elder Sisters; an argumen • of such Pregnancy and Ingenuity, as is no • ordinary in young children.

When she was seven years and a hal • old, her Father removing his dwelling to his School at Hackney, where now he live • She among the rest of his Children, had the advantage of a choice breeding there, and in short time made no small Progress in it, especially in the grounds of Music; for at fourteen years and a half old, She was able to play in Consort, at the first sight upon the treble Viol, and this with so much skill, ease, and sweetness, that She gave no ordinary hopes of proving a very rare Musician. Indeed such an harmonious soul She had, and a genious so exceeding tractable to all sorts of Music, that one of her Masters (Mr. Ives hy name) was wont to say he could play no new Lesson before her, but She would have it presently: insomuch that not himself only, but divers others her Instructers in that Art, were not a •• tle proud of her.

The first that grounded her in the notes 〈◊〉 Music, and enabled her to play so ex • llently on the treble Viol, was Mr. Tho • as Flood, who falling sick, and continuing 〈◊〉 a long time, it occasioned her Father 〈◊〉 make choice of a new Master (Mr. Will • am Gregory by name) who being eminent •• skillful at the Lyra Viol, did very much •• tter the making and forming of her • and, and was the first that gave her that • re delicious stroke, which afterwards be • me so singularly peculiar to herself. He so taught her all varieties of rare turn •• gs. That which made her so expert, both 〈◊〉 her own play, and in judging of others • hen She heard them, was her most cu •• ous ear, seldom equalled by any, the very • st Masters in that Art. Divers Books • he read of excellent composure, and under •• ood them well; nor cared She for any Les •• ns but what were very choice; but her • hief delight was in divisions upon grounds 〈◊〉 which She had the best that England •• uld afford.

Her principal Master at the Viol, for the •• st seven years, was Mr. Stephen Bing, a •• rviving witness of her admirable abili •• es, which in great part (to his honor be it spoken) She gained from him, it being very much his care and ambition, to encourage her with the best grounds and suits of Lessons that could be gotten, and thereby bring her to the highest perfections attainable at the Viol.

When She played on this Instrument, though singly, as She used it, it gave the delight of a full Consort; but when in Consort with other Viols, or a set of Lute • only, or Viols and Lutes together, or with the Harpsicord or Organ, still her Instrument was Queen of all, and as if it ha • been touched by more than a mortal hand, gave so delicious a sound, and so distinctly too, that any judicious ear might discei • it above the rest; insomuch that it migh • be truly said, look what the racy flavour i • to the richest Wine; fragrancy to flowers▪ varnish to colors; burnish to gold; sparkling to diamonds; and splendor to the light • that was her ravishing stroke to all the other Music; and yet (which was the mor • admirable) She sat so steady, and free from any the least unhandsom motion in her body, so modestly careless, and as it wer • thoughtless of what She was about, as i • She had not been concerned at all; and all • this She did, though She never spent th • tenth part of that time in private practice which others are wont to do; for indeed She made better use of her time, at other sorts of higher Music, which was much sweeter to her, as we shall hear anon.

As her accomplishments at the Viol were superlatively great, so at the Lute also, in which Mr. Ashberry having done his part towards her, in teaching of her till he died; Mr. John Rogers the rare Lutenist of our Nation, for the last three years, came after him, and added much more to her; professing that her skill at this Instrument was so very exquisite, and her hand so sweet, that he never taught any like her. When She played on the Viol, She seemed to transcend at that Instrument above all the rest, and when She played on the Lute, She seemed to transcend as much there; such a contention, and so pleasant, scarce was ever known from one and the same Virgins hand before.

Had leisure given leave, that She could have spared time from her other Instruments and employments, Mr. Albertus Brian, that famously velvet fingered Organist, would gladly have done the same for her, which he hath done for one of her Sisters yet living, in making her as rare at the Harpsecord, as She was at any of her other sorts of Music; and so have paired the two Sisters together; one set of the choicest Lessons at this Instrument, at the request of the said Mr. Brian, She learned of him, and as himself affirms, not only attained them in a very short time, but played them as well as he himself could.

To this her Instrumental Music we may add her Vocal, no less delicious and admirable, if not more excellent; as if her Lungs had been made on purpose, (as no doubt they were) by their natural melodies to out-do the artificial; and here Mr. Edward Coleman, her Master, and one of greatest renown, for his rare abilities in singing, deserves no less thanks and commendations for the care and delight he took in perfecting her in this Art also, than any of her other Masters.

She was an incomparable Dancer, as at Country, so in French dances, wherein she was so excellently curious, in her Postures, footings, and most graceful countenance, that Mr. Hazard, her last and chief instructer therein, and one of the rarest Masters of that Art in England, accounted her a prime Flower of the Age in that respect, and said She was as knowing therein, as any Dancing-Master whatever.

The Fame of all which at last grew so public and universal, that there are few places in England but have heard thereof, yea, and many parts beyond the Seas too. For not only persons of high rank and quality, of all sorts, came from London, the Inns of Court, and out of several Counties, to hear and judge of her abilities, especially the chiefest Music-Masters that are now living: but many foreigners also, as French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, as well Agents and Ambassadors, as other Travelers into these parts, desired a taste of these her rare qualities, always going away with high admiration, saying that they had now seen one of the choicest rarities of England, and professing they never heard or knew of the like in any of their own Countries.

All other parts of excellent breeding she likewise had; whatever curious Works at the needle, or otherwise can be named, which Females are wont to be conversant in, whether by silver, silks, straws, glass, wax, gum • , o • any other of the like kind, she was perfectly skilled in. To say nothing of her ability at the pen, where, being an accountant, her skill was more than ordinary women have; and in Arts of good house-wifry, and Cookery, wherein she had a good share likewise; I hasten rather to the more noble perfections of her mind, which indeed were very aimable and lovely.

For she had a delicate and nimble wit, a quick apprehension, a clear understanding, a sound judgment, a fine invention, a tenacious memory, which (as we shall hear anon) she was not wont to stuff with vanity, but with what was most worthy to be learned and kept. And as these natural parts and reasonable faculties of her soul, so her moral virtues also were eminent. She was very discreet, wise, and prudent in her actions; not passionate, nor retentive of anger, never over merry, but modestly grave and composed; of a very comely and handsome carriage, insomuch that strangers were wont to say, when she came into their presence, they had not seen a more sweet comportment, or a more taking person. For disposition, so affable, kind, and courteous, that she soon gained the love of all, where ever she came. Her discourse was always pertinent and useful, not at all loquacious, her speech being rather sontentious, than garrulous. These and many such like graceful ornaments, added unto the comeliness of her person, rendered her very winningly acceptable to all that knew her. But that which most of all commends her, and justly leaves her a very imitable example to all that shall hear of her, and for which principally this present Relation is penned, is much more considerable than what hath been yet said: Namely, that choice and precious work of Grace upon her heart, which God was pleased to work in her, and by which all her other excellencies were sweetly sanctified; the occasion whereof was as followeth.

About four years since, being disappointed in the enjoyment of her desires in a Match then propounded to her, by the sudden death of the party that had gained her affection, she wisely considered with herself, what the meaning of this so sad a providence should be; and at last, after many Prayers and tears to God, that he would bless this unexpected stroke to her, and some way make her a gainer by it, her heart began to be much broken and melted towards God, not so much for this temporal loss (which she often said might have proved a snare to her) as at the sight and sense of sin, and her estate by nature (which (though well educated all her time before) yet till now she had not taken much notice of.

The good work of God thus happily begun, ceased not, but went forward in her heart daily, to the joy of such near Relations as knew of it; nor could she be quiet, till she had uttered all her mind herein to them, earnestly desiring the assistance of Counsel and Prayer, that she might fully understand her condition, and not be deceived therein. Of all things, she was exceedingly urgent with God, that he would not suffer her to be mistaken herein. Indeed her fears thereof at first were many and great; the questions she put about it, not a few, but never came to be satisfied therein, till God was pleased to give her a sight of that poisonous fountain of original corruption, with which she found herself always pestered, and so hindered in her desisired progress towards Heaven, that this sin above all others she much bewailed.

And farther became so deeply sensible of the danger thereof, and the necessity of an effectual remedy against it, that she made haste to run unto Jesus Christ. 〈◊〉 help, and that not only for the pardon of this sin, but for power against it, and that continually.

Hereupon finding her heart always burdened with sin, full of corrupt motions and affections, and yet still relieved by applying Christ, with what he had done and suffered, unto herself, and also feeling her desires stirred up by the good Spirit of Grace, more eagerly to long after God, and the knowledge and enjoyment of him; and farther perceiving, that though the same good Spirit sometimes would melt her heart, yet at other times was pleased to leave her without those inward warmths, which in the use of the best means she labored after, but by her own strength could not attain unto: she from thence concluded that these changes which she thus felt within her, were the effects of some real and true work of God upon her; for thus she argued, how comes it to pass, that I feel these alterations in myself, now and never before? How is it, that sometimes I am delighted with the inward and sweet workings of the Spirit of God upon my heart? and that at other times I am troubled for the want of it? I lived under the same Ministry before; the same public Ordinances; enjoyed the same helps in the Family, and from faithful friends that sought my souls best good, and prayed much for it; yet never till now could I find any of all this experience, from the different workings both of Sin and Grace in my own heart. Sure this is of God, said she, and can be from nothing else. Thus at last she came to be somewhat persuaded and confirmed concerning the goodness of her spiritual state, as one that was now got over the pangs of the new Birth, though not without many a salt tear, and broken heart.

Answerable to this first work, was the rest that followed to her dying day, especially within the last two years of her life, and somewhat more; for when it pleased God so to order it by his permissive providence, that one which she most dearly loved, became guilty of a great offense through a sudden temptation that seized on her; it went near to her, and was a great occasion of making her search into her own heart and ways, more narrowly than ever, and not only to bless God that had kept her from the like, but also to mourn for those frailties of her youth, which formerly she minded not, though no other than what usually befall the very best that are.

Thence forward she betakes herself to a more careful and strict watchfulness over her own heart; and to close and constant duty, not only in the Family, but most of all in secret, betwixt God and her own soul; insomuch that when she was sometimes missing, and earnestly called for, but could not be found; at last it appeared that she had often hid herself, to be alone with God, in the duties of meditation and fervent Prayer.

One of the first Discoveries hereof, was upon this accasion; being retired into her Closet, and as she thought, had sufficiently fastened the door inwardly, one of her most intimate Consorts, upon an urgent occasion, running hastily in with a violent motion, thrust the door open, little thinking at that time, that she had been there; where she kneeling upon her knees, turned about to see what the matter was, the tears in the mean while, trickling down both her cheeks, but was much troubled at this interruption, and discovery of her Devotion.

Indeed that was one of the matters of her complaint, that she wanted conveniency for retirement, where she might fully vent her Soul to God, without disturbance or observation; and therefore because th • house was always full of company, havi •• well nigh an hundred, and sometimes mo •• of Gentlewomen with their attendants; an • the Servants and Children of the house everywhere going up and down, in ev •• Room, so that she could get no place 〈◊〉 privacy; her manner was, in the day time, to get into the Garden, at such hour • when others might not so freely come into it, and there with her Bible, or some • other choice Book, spent an hour or more i • Reading, Meditation, and such ejaculation • as she could send up to Heaven in walking at which seasons, she hath sometimes sai • to such as she was wont to tell her min • to, her heart hath been as much warm •• and refreshed in converse with God, as when she hath been most affected upon her knees elsewhere.

Mornings and Evenings she never sailed, by her good will, to read some portion of Scripture (if not called away by extraordinary business on a sudden) and to pour out her heart to God in private Prayer; for which, because no place in the house was so convenient, and so far from noise and sight of others, as one certain remote room, where none usually came at •• ose hours, therefore that place of all others •• e made choice of, in the dark Winter • venings, and the Mornings before the • amily was up; many a time hath she vi •• ed one corner of that Room, which was • ost retired, with eyes and hands lift up to • even, kneeling at a chair with great •• fection, which though she never knew that • ny took the least notice of (for that would • ave been a trouble to her) yet a certain • eer relation that often looked in at a cran • y of the door, which she had fastened in • ardly, and did not a little joy to see her 〈◊〉 employed, is yet surviving as an eye-wit • ess of it. Sometimes her red eyes and •• lubbered face, discovered her, before she could get conveniencies to wash them, notwithstanding that her hood was pulled over them. Nothing did more abash or • rouble her, than when any suspected what she had been about; not out of any shame of Religion (for that she owned upon all occasions very freely, as well among the Gentlewomen in the Family, as elsewhere) but out of an honest affectation of being more in this sense, than she would seem to be.

So sweet and pleasant was her Comm • nion with God in such retirements as thes • that she said, if ever she should change h • condition, it should be more for this re • son than any other, that she might hav • the full and free use of her time, and oth •• helps for her soul.

It was observed, that she was alway • out of the way at five a clock, and appear not till the Bell rang to Supper, at six • clock, or thereabout, which time she spen • in the aforesaid Duties.

If at any time she had omitted duty, 'tw •• one of her greatest troubles afterward, an • when she sequestered herself unto duty, whether of Meditation or Prayer, she usually read some part of David's Psalms ( 〈◊〉 Book which she greatly delighted in) because she always found matter there, ver •• proper, preparative and helpful to her i • the said Duties.

Among other profitable and fruitful Meditations, she was not a stranger to thoughts of Death, even in her best health▪ insomuch that when she heard a passing Bell or knel for any, her custom was to retire into a solitude for a good space, sometimes an hour or more, there to affect her heart with such considerations as • ere suitable to the occasion.

She never was better pleased then when • e met with any in holy Conference (a pra • se which she used ( as often as she could • t opportunity) that communicated exp • riences of the same corruptions and tem • ations, that she found in her own heart; • nd withal, the same ways of help and •• lief against them.

When she found a deadness and coldness • pon her heart, as sometimes she did, and • old not get it into a good frame towards • od, by any means she could use, this in •• rence she made from it; that she hereby • erceived her dependence must be wholly up • n Free-grace, as for the acceptation of that she did, so for assistance and ability • o do what she ought: And several times • pon this occasion would let fall expressions • f wonderment, how any that pretended to 〈◊〉 real acquaintance with God, and carry • orrupt hearts about them, always dogged • nd set upon by temptations from Satan, • nd an evil world, could plead for a power • n themselves unto anything that is good.

Her care for the spiritual welfare of her • eer Relations, and some others whom she dearly loved, was very great, and thereupon took occasion often to admonish, exhor • and persuade them, about the things th • concerned their eternal state; sometim •• with tears lamenting their danger, whe • they walked loosely; and then again rejoicing as much, when she perceived an • ground of hope for them.

One time when she was asked what sh •• thought of the condition of one that sh •• was trusted with the special care of, and w •• wont to take some pains with, in the ma • ters of her soul; she answered, the great • thing she doubted her for, was, lest sh • neglected private duties, which she coul • never perceive she spent any time in; supposing (as there was good reason she should 〈◊〉 that the driving of that secret Trade fo • Heaven, is one inseparable property of true •• Grace, and that the want thereof, together with the ordinary neglect of Family-duty • and public Ordinances (whatever the outward Profession might be) were argument • of a very ungracious and profane heart.

A notable spirit of discerning she had for when she heard any make semblance o • love to God, and were very confident o • their own good estate, but withal spake very woodenly (as her expression was) about matters of Religion, and the experiences •• ereof, she much pitied their case, and • ayed earnestly, that God would open their •• yes; convince them of their sin and hypo •• isie; show them them evil and danger of it, •• d effectually bring them home unto himself; often saying, what pity it was, that • ny who are otherwise qualified with ma • y desirable good things of nature, should • iss of the highest and best improvement of •• em for God, and at la •• perish themselves or want of Grace.

When any vain language, or sinful ex • ressions (such as the abusive use of, O • ord! or O God!) came from any of the Gentlewomen in the House, or any others; • r any evil action was done by them, she would reprove it so wisely, with so mild and meek a spirit, that they were ashamed of • t, and sometimes were reformed for the • uture, at least in her sight and hearing.

Two principal helps which she coveted most, and made the greatest use of, were good Books and good Company.

Of good Books she had some stone, but • hose that she took chiefest delight in, were Mr. Shepards true Convert and his sound Believer. Mr. Baxter's Call to the unconverted. Dr. Goodwin his triumph of Faith, and heart of Christ in Heaven, toward sinners upon earth. Dr. Spurstow upon th • Promises. Mr. Watson his Christian Cha • ter. Mr. Brooks his riches of Grace. M • Love's works. Mr. Craddock's Book 〈◊〉 Knowledge and Practice. Mr. Francis R • berts his Key of the Bible. Besides some C • techetical Books, as Mr. Baal, Mr. Eus • bius Paget his questions and answers upo • most of the Books of the Old and New Testament; someone of which she alway • read every night in her bed, immediatel • before sleep, and then fed upon them 〈◊〉 her first waking, by which means she e • creased much in knowledge, and kept he • heart warm whilst it was thus pre-occupy • from all things else in the morning.

Since January last, she and two or three more, in three months time, read over the whole New Testament, and all along as they went, (still reading an whole Book at 〈◊〉 time) discoursed of the Contents of what they had read; when any doubt arose in her readings either from Scripture or oath • Books, she sought for satisfaction by putting questions, and always shown a good understanding, in the v ••• mysteries of Divine Truth, and experi ••••• l Grace, in that no answers ever relished with her, but what most agreed, both with the Analogy of Faith, and the common sense of the best Christians.

Her next great help (as was before hinted) she found to be good Company, which she always desired and sought for, and when she had it, improved it. Fruitful discourse she would either set on foot, or endeavor to keep up, and drunk it in as pleasantly, as thirsty men do that which best satisfieth their thirst. Among all other subjects, none pleased her better than to talk of Heaven, sometimes saying, Oh how sweet would it be to know what is doing there; and then in a kind of rapture would break out with such affection and language, as argued a very great inward Joy at the hopes of her coming thither one day. Such a full content and inward refreshment she felt in conferences of this Nature, that she would often say, her Music was a burden to her, in comparison; and that were it not in conscience to her duty of being useful by it in so public a Family, she would spend much less time in that, and more in this; yet she confessed sometimes (through Grace) it helped to raise her own heart towards the highest Music of all, and for that 〈◊〉 practiced it more than otherwise she •• ld have done.

Upon occasion when some had been greatly taken with the melody she made, both by her voice and instrument, yet how short (saith she) doth this come of a warm Prayer, or heavenly Conference? and indeed she found it so many a time, when her heart which hath been heavy and sad at first, hath by such Prayers and Conferences gone away greatly cheered and revived, but never could find the like effects from her Music only.

No day of the Week unto her so welcome and desirable as the Lord's Day; dancing days were always wearisome, but these pleasant to her, and therefore usually (if much ilness hindered not) she was up more early on these days than • any other, and spent less time in putting on what she wore; her head on these days of late years she never dressed, and for that reason always went close covered with her hood. She was very diligent and attentive at the public Ordinance, carefully writing the Sermon, and examining her notes when she came home, which she would not fail to mend by such help as she could get, either at the repetition in the Family, or otherwise, and as constantly re-enforced all by Prayer for a blessing upon it, when she could get opportunity and place convenient, either in her own closet, or elsewhere, and would rather lose her Supper or come late to it, then miss of her aim herein.

Yet here it must be remembered that it was not always thus with her upon these days, nor at other times; for she some • imes complained of her own heart, and • ow wearisome these holy duties were to • he flesh; how apt she was to be taken off • y divertisements in the Family occasions; that many times when she came down in a morning with a resolution to keep her mind and intent upon God all the day, she was frequently disappointed therein, and still taken off by one business or other, or by some temptation unto vanity, that was ready to surprise her. The consideration whereof at other times much troubled her, kept her under a sense of own her weakness, and caused her sometimes to break forth in these or the like words. O! how sweet will Heaven be! where there will be no interruptions by sin, or wearisomeness of the flesh! What a perpetual rest will that be, when we once come to enjoy it!

By her good will she would not be absent at any time when the Lord's Supper was administered, of which having always a weeks warning, she failed not with great care to examine her own heart, and put up strong cries to God for a fitness to so great a Duty, and so high a Privilege; and indeed sometimes had more fear than ordinary of her unworthiness to partake of it, as appeared by her discourse, which usually was much upon this subject all that Week. So desirous was she not to be found at that Feast, without her wedding garment; it was no small trouble to her sometimes to think what general mixtures there are in that fellowship, in all places throughout the Land; yet being persuaded that to such a sincere receiver, as could not have it otherwise, God would come in with his presence and blessing; she attended upon it in the place where God by his Providence had cast her lot.

Sinful alterations in public Worship she very much feared, and that she might the better understand the pure Institutions of Christ, and what is contrary thereunto, she took great care to inform herself therein, by reading of such Books as she could get the clearest light from. Much enquiry she made after the Martyrs, as well of ancient times, as in later days, what they suffered for, and upon what occasion, desiring and resolving, if she had lived, to have read over the history thereof.

And because she perceived that the Romish Religion, and whatever else is a kin • to it, is an undoubted piece of Anti-christianism, that every true servant of Christ ought to bear testimony against, in these parts of the world, and knew not how soon herself with others might possibly be called to it; therefore she betook herself to the getting a good information in those truths that were likely to be most opposed, especially about the Worship of God. Such Books as lately came forth upon these subjects, she endeavored to get, and diligently read. Among other subjects, that of the reign of Christ upon earth was very pleasant to her; for though her belief reached not so far as to conclude that Christ shall come to reign personally on earth again, yet she rejoiced exceedingly, that he shall certainly reign in this world by the effusion of his Spirit, at least, in the hearts of men, and that then Antichrst shall be wholly ruined, and that glorious song of triumph sung, The Kingdoms of this world, are become the Kingdoms of the Lord and his Christ.

And because the Book of the Revelations points at those times wherein these desirable changes shall be, she thought it not improper for her, (though of the female sex) to pry into it with humble reverence and Prayer, and therefore sat down one day with another friend, to read over that whole Book, at one time, which accordingly they did; beginning at the first Chapter and never ceasing till they had read ove • the whole two and twenty. This she di • about three months before her Death, an • the reason why she did so, was, that sh •• might take the better notice of the whole Prophecy, and have a full prospect thereof, as it were, all at once; and that which mad • the reading of it the more pleasant and profitable to her, was the light which sh • had gained before, in the knowledge of this Book, by twice or thrice reading over th •• judicious Comment upon it, published b • Mr. Francis Roberts before mentioned, it his Key of the Bible.

She had a very compassionate heart towards the suffering servants of Christ, whether by imprisonment or otherwise; pitied them much; spake often of them, sometimes with tears in her eyes; and pray • for them constantly with great affection.

Some of her acquaintances, and very dear friends, such as the Lady Willowby and some others, not here to be named (who highly valued her, and desired her Company (as oft as might be) she frequently visited for several years together, while under their restraint in the Tower of London; to whom after a sweet & more spiritual converse otherwise, she would sing and play with all alacrity imaginable, to comfort them in their sadness; accounting it an high honor to her, that she was any way able to be a refreshment to those that she thought were dear to God. To such persons and to such places as they were in, though the closest prisons, she went readily and joyfully; but when invited to any Music-meeting in London, where the choicest ears, and most skillful Masters of Music coveted to hear and admire her, though never so earnestly desired, she was still backward to it. One time above the rest, with very great importunity she was strongly set upon by some Gentlemen of special acquaintance, to be present at the Revels or dancing Balls, but being left free to her own choice, whether she would go or not (at which she was very glad ) she absolutely & irrefregably refused it, as thinking it no way suitable, either to her Person or Profession of Religion.

Nor were the Musicks aforesaid, which she so freely imparted to her said friends in Prison, all the comfort they had from her, but her Spiritual and Christian converse also, was a de • igh • to them, (as is before hinted) as theirs likewise was to her; insomuch that when she returned home from visiting them, her discourse was so raised, and her affections so quickened, that she would sometimes say, O! how brave a thing is to suffer for Christ! who would not wish to be among the souls under the Altar, that cry, how long Lord will it be, ere thou revenge our blood on them that shed it! Thus triumphing, as it were, with a kind of heroic spirit of Martyrdom before hand; further adding, that since a Death must be undergone, what better or more noble death can there be, than thus to die? Yet at other times she had as great fears upon her, saying, that if she were called to suffering, she doubted she should not hold out; only the consideration of good Company, a good cause, and especially of a good God (she said) would encourage one much.

Among her other gracious qualifications, this was not the least, (especially of latter times) a very tender conscience, as might be instanced in many particulars, wherein she rested not till she received satisfaction to all doubts, from such arguments as were cleared by Scripture, and approved of by persons able to judge in the case.

To which also must be added, that when she perceived any, especially such as she had a reverence to, remained unsatisfied in any of her actions, she was always ready • pon knowledge of it, from their own • ouths, to forbear it, out of a tenderness • f grieving any of the generation of the • ust, or any way scandalizing her Profession, though as to her own particular, she • t the same time did think what she was • o desired to forbear warrantable in it • elf.

As for black spots or patches, as they are • alled, she abhorred them with her very soul, and was so far displeased at the sight • hereof, that when any of the Gentlewomen made use of them, she seldom or never • eft, till she had prevailed with them, to forbear that so uncivil a dress, or else desired her Mother to take them off from them.

As great an enemy she was to any uncomely attire; nor did she affect rich laces, or anything over costly, but what was most • eat in a plain ga • b, much more minding the Ornaments of the hidden man, which in the sight of God are of greatest price.

It was a great abashment to her, when • ome unwisely uttered high praises of her to her face, and thereby put her • nto a blush; the fear whereof, made her often modestly refuse to come into such Company at other times: Indeed she knew God had blessed her with some of those liu • things (as she was wont to call them) whic • the sensual world magnified too much, an • she desired to be very thankful for them but withal was much afraid of being lift • up with pride, and therefore entreat • friends in that respect to pray for her.

As she was always ready to assist he • Mother in Law in the Family and Sch •• so she had a particular reverence and ver • dear affection to her own Father, who cheerfulness and content, was one of th • greatest pleasures she had in this world; 〈◊〉 his sadness and trouble at any time, 〈◊〉 great an occasion of grief to her; and therefore did what she could to minister a • manner of comfort to him, by the perfo • mance of those dutiful and tender respects, which as a child she owed him.

As for her condition in respect of a si • gle life, it was not for want of proffers fro • several that would gladly have obtained her, but through dissatisfaction in th • qualifications of the Persons, she being resolved (God assisting her) never to mat •• any, were his worldly advantages nev •• so great, unless she were well assured ( 〈◊〉 far as charity could judge) of th • goodne •• of his spiritual state, and he likely- • oo • of his being a real help to he • in the way 〈◊〉 Heaven. Had she lived to a perfect recovery from sickness, divers considerable offers (known to some friends) would speedily have been made to her, of which she might have taken her choice; but now God hath otherwise declared his pleasure in the highest and best disposing and preferring of her, even by making her a Bride in Heaven, to him who for some years past, had • gotten her heart from all other Objects; and to whom she stuck with all faithfulness, till at last after a sore fit of sickness, she died in his arms; the occasion whereof I now hasten to.

In Whitsun Week, at the earnest desire of a very dear friend, she went to London, where (as Providence ordered it) she was unhappily lodged in damp Linnen, which in the night time clung fast about her, and had left that in her, which she herself said (as soon as she awaked) would prove her Death; whereupon in the morning it being made known, the best means that could be, were used to prevent the danger of it, but the Lord was not pleased to give success therein; and so after three or four days she returned home, (upon Saturday J ••• •• e 8th.) to her Father's House at Hackney, where all her mind from that time, still ra • upon the thoughts of her own Death; the strong apprehensions whereo • put her upon a great improvement of her remaining time, both in Reading, Praying, and Discoursing, like one that expected shortly to leave the world; for she said she felt that about, her which would carry he • away quickly, and was much worse inwardly, than perhaps any one thought; and therefore exhorted one of her Sisters, whom she dearly loved, and conversed most with, t • mind eternity, to think much of her change, and labor to be prepared for it; acknowledging the goodness of God to herself, who had spared her so long. After this time she grew worse and worse, till on Saturday June the 22. (14. days after her return home) she took her bed, in order to her grave; where being seized upon by a Violent Feaver, her strength was so wasted, and her spirits gone, that upon the Teusday after at mid-night, (being June the 25.) she was hardly able to chatter, and so sent for her Father, Mother, and Sisters, to see them once more, and take a solemn leave of them; who when they were come and sat all weeping about her, with great lamentation, after a little space, as if strength had been renewed on purpose for that end, she began to utter her affections and desires to them about many things, wherein she expressed herself, with so much prudence, • iscretion, and composedness of mind, and • his for almost four hours together, with • ome intermissions, that it was marvelous • o behold; among other things she much • erswaded to the preservation and streng • hening of a love and unity among • ll Relations. At last as she was say • ng, that she had nothing to leave them • n memorial of her, presently her Father • old her, he gave her free liberty, to dispose • f whatever she had; at which she was • ery much pleased, and thanking of him, distributed to everyone according to her • wn mind; her several Rings to be worn di • tinctly, as she directed, by her Father, Mother, and Sisters; two of her Rings she • ut upon her fingers, and taking them off again, gave them to be kept for her two Brothers beyond Sea, as a token to them • rom her dying hand; all her Clothes, her Watch, and a certain piece of Plate mark • d with her own Name, she gave to one Sister; all her Works and Instruments of Music to be divided betwixt three other Sisters; her Books also she disposed of; and as a Legacy to all the Gentlewomen of the School; she commended her dying desires and requests to them, that they would not spend their time in reading of vain Books, but instead thereof, to betake themselves to the best Book of all, the Bible, and such other choice Books, as might do their souls most good; as also that they would be constant in the use of private Prayer; that they would be careful to sanctify the Lord's Day, and not waste those precious hours in over-curious dressings; and that they would behave themselves reverently at the public Ordinances, it having been a great offense to her formerly when any have done the contrary.

Then falling into speech about her Funeral, in what Room she desired her Herse might stand, where she should be Buried, and other particulars about the manner o • it; she desired that all might be done decently, and that Dr. Spurstow, by whose Ministry she had been much edified and comforted, might Preach at her Intermen • , in all which she submitted to her Father's pleasure.

But that which was very remarkable in this her large Discourse, she shed not one fear nor seemed at all sadded at her approaching Death; and when she was told that her Fathers heart was ready to break, wh • fare- weeping and groaning by her all th • while; she said she was sorry for it, a •• asked why he would do so? adding farther that for her part, she was in God's hand and willing to yield up to him, hoping that • ll friends would endeavor to do the like; •• d so being now quite spent with speaking • or she desired not to be intterrupted, till • er whole mind was uttered) she lay still •• e rest of the Night.

The next Day being Wednesday, June • he 26. Dr. Spurstow came to visit her, • ho asking her what she found in herself? • hat she thought concerning her own spi • itual State? as also what evidence she had • f God's Love? or Promise to rely upon? • he answered, that she was in the dark as • o her own evidences, and that they were • ot so clear to her as she could wish; yet • hat she was not without hope; that she • ad found much sweetness in many passa • es of Scripture; but from that chiefly (Ro •• titus the 8. and 28.) All things shall work • ogether for good, to them that love God. Af • er Discourse ended, she desired of the Doctor, that she might once more hear him Pray, and accordingly had her desire • herein.

The same Day in the afternoon, she • as more strongly assaulted than before; for • ow to her Peaver, and almost exhausted • trength, convulsive motions were added, and • isings of the Mother, by which when she had been greatly afflicted, and beyond all hope recovered again out of them, s •• called to her Sister sitting by, and ask what day of the Month it was; who enquiring after the reason of that question, w •• told by her, that if she lived, she woul • celebrate it forever hereafter, in a thanks • remembrance of her being thus reviv •• again, as it were like another Lazarus.

The next day lying in a slumber, as he • Sister thought, she suddenly turns he • head to her, and hastily tells her, that sh • had a Call to be gone; a Call, saith she, b • whom? God hath Called me, replied she to be gone from hence, and I must die why, how do you know it? said the oath • very well saith she, I am sure it will be so and therefore do not reckon upon my Life

One coming not long after to visit her and to pray with her, asked her how sh • did; I am going to Heaven, said she, a • fast as I can.

Three nights after this, God in a wonderful manner supporting her under continual pains, so that friends hoped she migh • wear them out; well, saith she, for all th •• I shall die, and be at rest in Heaven wit • my dear Lord, before the morning comes yet it proved not so, for she lived almos • four days after, sometimes giving new hope of recovery, and then falling bac • again.

All the time of her sickness she was ve •• patient, earnestly praying that God • old enable her still so to be, and that • e might not murmur while his hand lay 〈◊〉 heavy on her. Ever and anon she would •• y out, little doth any know what I feel; • ut I hope, saith she, God will strengthen •• e to the end. She often inquired whe •• er any were seeking God for her, which • hen she was assured of, blessed be God, •• ith she, he will reward them for it.

Three things she desired might earnest • y be sought for from God on her behalf, • atience under her so grievous sickness, • lear evidences of God's Love, and an easy • assage, if God should call her out of this • ife; in all which she was graciously an • wered, as everyone that attended her • rom first to last, can witness.

One time she seemed to lie in a kind of Agony, and suddenly breaking out with these words, said, shall I say that God • ath forsaken me? no, I will not. All the • ime after she seemed well satisfied, and much at peace in her mind concerning her future state, nor had any fear at all upon • er; for being told by her Sister, that she was persuaded, if God should be pleased to take her from hence, she should be happy with him; she replied, I doubt it not in the least, and was never heard to let fall • one word to the contrary all the while after.

Being asked (as she often was) how she did? she answered, in pain all over, eve • as God will have it; the Physician I see can do me no good, but one word from Go • can help all, if he please.

At another time she looked about her, and said to the standers by, God might ha •• made you all like me, and I might have be • in your case, if it had seemed good to him, b •• his holy Will be done.

Upon the Lord's Day before her Death, when speech almost quite failed he • (though not her senses nor understanding, which she had even to the last) she softl • uttered these words in the midst of very great pains, which all that day universally seized on her, the Goodness of God is the bes • goodness, the Goodness of God is the best goodness; often repeating of it, as if her hear • were holy taken up with that Meditation.

When a near friend stood by her praying earnestly, for her in this extremity, at every sentence she testified a very great affection, by such a lifting up her eyes and hands towards Heaven, as if her whole soul had ascended in every petition, which occasioned some heavings of the Mother; and being told, that since it came by the zeal • f her heart in Prayer, God would sweeten • t to her; she replied, I question it not.

On the Monday morning, she often mut • ered out very softly, these words, two days and an half more, and then I shall be an rest; which she repeated two or three times; and accordingly from that very time, she did live two days and an half, to wit, till Wednesday Noon following, and then began to draw on apace towards her last breath.

Indeed her pains now seemed to leave • her, or her strength rather, being able no more to struggle; and so lying in a kind of quiet sleep, at last panting for breath a short space, in a small silent groan, gave up her precious soul into the hands of God, whose Angels carrying it away to Heaven (as we have comfortable ground of hope to believe) left us all in bitter mourning and wailing over her dead Body.

When she was laid out in the Chamber where she died, dressed in her Night clothes, one would have thought she had been in a kind of smiling slumber; and now the Gentlewomen, with the rest of the Family, and some neighbors coming to see her, and give her their last salute, it would have broken ones heart, to have heard and seen the many cries, tears, and lamentations, that the Room was filled with.

So dear a child she was, and of such high deserts (as hath been already related) that her Father and all friends, thought her worthy of a very decent Burial, and accordingly upon Saturday the sixth of July, she was attended to the grave with a numerous Company, in manner following.

The Herse covered with Velvet, was carried by six servant Maidens of the Family, all in White; the sheet was held up by six of those Gentlewomen in the School, that had most acquaintance with her, in mourning Habit, with white Scarf • and Gloves; a rich costly Garland of gum-work, adorned with Banners and Scutchions, was borne immediately before the Horse, by two proper young Ladies, that entirely loved her. Her Father and Mother, wi • h other near Relations, and their Children, followed next the Horse, in due order, all in mourning; the Kindred next to them, after whom came the whole School of Gentlewomen, and then persons of chief rank, from the Neighbor-hood, and from the City of London, all in white Gloves, both Men, Women, Children, and Servants, having been first served with Wine.

When the Herse first entered the Church, the rest of the Schools were all there, in their respective places, affectionately sympa • hizing with the rest of the Mourners. I know not whether Hackney Church hath often not more weeping eyes; and aking hearts in it, on such an occasion, so great • y and generally was she beloved.

The Horse being set down, with the Garland upon it, the Reverend Dr. Spurstow applied himself to the proper work of the • eason, and preached upon those words, 〈◊〉 Cor. 3.22. Death is yours. From whence, after he had declared at large the sweetness that lies in this word Death, as it is a part of Christ's Legacy to a Believer, he made such useful inferences and applications, • s were proper for the occasion.

This done, the rich Coffin anointed with • weet Odors, was put down into the Grave, • n the middle Alley of the said Church, un •• • he same stone, where Mrs. Anne Carew, • ne of the great beauties of England in her • ime, and formerly a Gentlewoman of the School, and intimately acquainted with her, was buried; being the second of those five Gentlewomen only, which have died out of • er Father's House, among? those eight hun • red, that have been educated there, within • he compass of seventeen years.

And now what follows after all this? i • it not a fair warning to us, that yet survive her, to bethink ourselves of our own condition? and whether we be ready for death, i • we should be suddenly called, as she in 〈◊〉 manner was? should we not make it ou • constant Prayer, and utmost endeavor, t • number our days, and so to number them as to apply our hearts to Wisdom, even t • that Wisdom only, which will make us 〈◊〉 to die? All the days of my appointed tim • will I wait (saith Job) till my change come O let that be our saying too, and our practice also.

I. DECAD.

1. WHether the imputed Righteousness of Jesus Christ by Faith, be not the true formal cause of a Believers Justification? whether the satisfaction he hath made to his Father's Justice on behalf of the Elect, be not sufficient? whether the merits of his Active and Passive obedience, do not arise from the dignity of his Person? and whether he that denies this, doth not make the Gospel void? Esa. 53. throughout, 2 Cor. 5.21. Mat. 3.17. Heb. 7.25, 26, 27. compared with Rom. 4.14. Gal. 3. from 17. to 27. & Chap. 4.5.

2. Whether he that affirms total and final falling away from special Grace, be not a down-right Arminian, and Cozen-German to a Papist?

3. Whether he that holds the power of nature (otherwise called Freewill) may not strongly be suspected to be unknown to himself, or at least not to take due notice of the workings of sin and Grace in his own heart?

4. Whether one may not be a zealous Preacher against sin, and for inherent Grace, in order to Justification thereby, and yet be a Jesuit, or every whit as bad, whatever his pretence may be to the contrary? and whether such may not be accounted upholders of the doctrine of merit, and establishers of their own Righteousness? Rom. 10.3.

5. Whether it be possible to cover a sinners spiritual nakedness with any other garments, but those which Christ wears on his own back? Rev. 3.18.

6. Whether the Righteousness of Christ applied by Faith, be not both coat of Mail and cloth of Gold; and such too, as nothing can either pierce or sully? and whether he that hath this upon him, be not both securely and bravely arrayed from head to foot? Eph. 6.11. compared with Rev. 1.13.

7. Whether any other robes have such rich embroideries, or are hung with so many, and so costly Jewels, as those robes of Christ, which both himself and his People wear? Es. 61.10. Cant. 1.10, 11.

8. Whether Christ hath any Dowry with his Bride? and whether her Wedding clothes are not of his providing, Ezek. 16.13, 14. compared with Rev. 21.2.

9. Whether it was not an unparalleled love for Christ, to account the day of Espousals, with one that had neither Beauty, Parentage, nor Portion, to be the day of the gladness of of his heart? Cant. 1.6. Eze. 16.3, 4, 5, 6. compared with Cant. 3.11.

10. Whether by the Queens, her being all glorious within ( Psal. 45. 13.) and by her clothing of wrought Gold, be not meant, the splendors of Grace in the heart, and the shine of them in the Life?

II. DECAD.

11. Whether, if Grace be the Flower, sincerity and godly simplicity, be not the lasting fragrancy and beauty of that Flower?

12. Whether the Flames of Divine Love are not most vehement, even flames of God? and whether those flames are not raised and maintained from the sweetest Fuels? Cant. 8.6. compared with Chap. 1.12.

13. Whether these flames shall ever go quite out for want of fuel, or can be extinguished, either by men or devils? Jer. 31.3. compared with Rom. 8.35. to 39.

14. Whether the very best duties of the best Saints, have not need of Christ's perfumes to sweeten them? and whether much incense be not therefore added to their Prayers, because they are in themselves very unsavory, and from very noisesome hearts? Rev. 8.3.

15. Whether in the golden Vials (mentioned Rev. 5.8.) though the Prayers are the Saints, the odors are not Christ's? and whether the reason why they are all called odors, be not, because the denomination is always from the better part?

16. Whether fervent Prayers from holy hearts, make not as sweet a smell in Heaven, as their praises make melodies? Psal. 141.2. Cant. 2.14.

17. Whether a soul can truly live without Christ anymore than the Body without wholesome food, Joh. 6.27, 32, 33.

18. Whether the highest Angels feed on better dainties than the meanest Saint? and whether the Love of God be not a full and a sumptuous Feast? Psal. 36.7, 8. & 34.8. compared with Esa. 25.6.

19. Whether the hardest heart doth not drink in the Love, and melt in the Blood of Christ, as sugar sucks up, and melts in wine? Rom. 5.5.

20. Whether one can begin too soon to love God? or can love him too much? or can suffer or lose, or do too much for him? and whether he doth not deserve the very best of all we have? the best of our time? the best of our affections? the best of our enjoyments? and accordingly whether he doth not expect it? Deut. 6.5. Gen. 4.4. compared with Mal. 1.8.

III. DECAD.

21. Whether true saving Faith may not well be said to have an Eagles eye, since in a right line it can look on the brightest Sun, the Sun of Righteousness? Esa. 45.22. compared with Mal. 4.2.

22. Whether a weak Faith, like a palsy hand, may not lay hold on a pardon or purse of gold? the woman came trembling to Christ, Luke 8.47. Mark 9.24. Joh. 6.37.

23. Whether the lowly grace of Humility, like the delicate scented Violet, that even kisseth the earth, and as 'twere hides itself under its own leaves, be not as sweet as any of the Taller graces? and whether this be not a thriving Grace? Psal. 25.9. Prov. 29.23. Jam. 4.6. 1 Pet. 5.5.

24. Whether they have not the quickest and best hearing, who have an ear in their heart that listens to, and hears the smallest motions of the Spirit of Grace? Esa. 30.21.

25. Whether Faith and Love are not a pair of golden wings, with which a gracious heart flies to Heaven every day? Psal. 11.1. & 143.9.

26. Whether the lowest sighs from a broken heart, do not make the loudest Prayers? and whether a Prayer upon the knee, will ever reach Heaven, unless it be a Prayer on the wing too? Psal. 51.17. Esa. 37.4.

27. Whether all the day long, wheresoever or howsoever employed, the sending up of frequent ejaculations to Heaven, be not to drive a secret, but thriving trade for Grace, and the comforts of it? Psal. 139.17, 18. Esa. 26.8, 9.

28. Whether any one truly penitent groan, was ever unheard of God? or one penitent tear unseen or unbottled up by him? and whether God will defer the deliverance of his afflicted People one moment longer than is necessary? 2 King. 20.5. Psal. 56.8. 1 Pet. 1.6.

29. Whether he that suffers or loseth most for Christ, be not the greatest gainer? Mat. 5.11, 12. Rom. 8.17, 18. 2 Cor. 4.17.

30. Whether by some men's lives and actions, it may be supposed, that they do really believe there is a God, a day of Judgment, an Heaven and an Hell?

IV. DECAD.

31. Whether the death of many righteous in a few months time, be not a sad prognostication of much evil to come? and whether every day of our life, we ought not seriously to think of, and carefully prepare for the hour of our death? Esa. 57.1. Job 14.14. Psal. 90.12.

32. Whether a covert under the wings of the Almighty, be not a safe and a warm place in stormy times? and whether they may not reckon themselves secure whom God keeps? Psal. 91.1, 4.

33. Whether the bosom of God be not the sweetest, highest and brightest place in Heaven? and whether it be not the place where Abraham lies? Luk. 16.23.

34. Whether his case be not to be lamented, who makes it his business so to live, as to die a fool? and whether a poor Lazarus be not in an happier condition than he? Luk. 12.20. & Chap. 16.22.

35. Whether he that refuseth to answer God's Calls and Counsels in the time of his Life, can expect God's answers to his calls and cries at the hour of his death? Prov. 1.24 to 31.

36. Whether Fornicators, Adulterers, and other such like, shall not do well to consider, that God's eye is broad open upon them at midnight, when no candle is in the room, no company there, and the curtains drawn round about them? and whether he doth not see their thoughts too, as well as their actions? Psal. 90.8. & 139.1 to 14. Heb. 13.4.

37. Whether, if every idle word must be accounted for, as certainly it shall, Mat. 12.36. it will not be sad with them, whose mouths belch forth nothing but oaths, cursings, blasphemies, scurrilities, all manner of filthy communications, and bitter revilings against God, his ways and People? Psal. 10.7. Rom. 3.13, 14. 1 Pet. 2.23. Jude 15.

38. Whether the righteous God be not engaged to a severe punishment of the wrongs and injuries done to him and his? and whether present forbearance will pass for payment, or doth not make way rather for the heavier blows at last? Psal. 37, 12, 13. Eccles. 8.11, 12. Prov. 11.21.

39. Whether God will be mocked, or doth not take notice of the intolerable insolencies of profane scoffers at his Holy things, especially his servants the Prophets, and the messages which they bring? and whether this was not one great cause of all that wrath that brake out against Judah, when they were carried away captives into Babylon? 2 Chron. 36.16. Gal. 6.7.

40. Whether the terrible Judgments of God, in the present death of four of the Actors of the passion of Christ, upon the very place where, and while they were acting it (mentioned by Philip Melancthon ) are not to be taken notice of by such as adventure on such bold attempts?

V. DECAD.

41. Whether Idolatry were not one principal sin, that sent the ten Tribes into perpetual captivity? and whether the practice of it among Christians, be not one great hindrance of the conversion of the Jews, who having smarted so much and so long together for that sin, do they not now dread to come where it is, or to embrace that Religion that is defiled with it? 2 King. 17.7. to 19.

42. Whether the worshipping of the true God, after a false manner, be not Idolatry in the Scripture account, as well as the worshipping of a false God? and whether God cares for any worshippers, but such as worship him in Spirit and Truth? Ezek. 43.8. John 4.24.

43. Whether a little pollution, mixed with the pure Doctrine, Discipline and Worship of God be not like a little spider in a cup of rich wine, which may poison it as well as a bigger? and whether God doth not expect full as great care and caution about the matter and manner of his Worship in the days of the Gospel, as he did in the days of Moses, who was not to vary in the least, from the pattern that was shown him in the Mount? Exod. 35.40. Ezek. 44.7, 8.

44. Whether it be not the peculiar Office of the Spirit of God, to teach his People to pray? and whether any prayers will be accepted, but such as he dictates? Rom. 8.15, 26, 27. Psal. 10.17.

45. Whether seeming grace or holiness, will qualify a man for happiness, anymore than real sins? and whether those Scribes and Pharisees, which our Savior calls Hypocrites, in their external acts of worship, and public profession of Religion, were not in appearance very devout men? Mat. 23.14, 25, to 30. Phil. 3.4, 5, 6.