sinsf? why should I trouble and torment myself with my own. thoughts? why should wind and tide run together? How many reasons have I to be contented! and spread them all before thy eyes, that they may dry up thy tears and cease thy sorrow. Labour, at least, that these thoughts may tread upon the heels of the other; and, as soon as may be, overtake them, and get the mastery of them. And so doing, thou wilt weep as much as is fit, but no more than thou oughtest. Nature will be satisfied, and thou thyself not ashamed. None will think that thou art not grieved, and thou wilt feel that thy heart is comforted. SECT. III. Which shows rather what might be said, than what is said in this present treatise for moderating our sorrow. But yet those examples which we have from others may move us to follow their rules, and so a brief touch is made upon them. BUT what comforts are these (may some say) which you bring us? with what reasons will you assist us? wisest per sons have not mourned much. I suppose it will be of no great effect to answer, that the wisest The best and persons have made their mourning short and moderate; because I have already named two both good and wise that were excessive. And therefore I must endeavour to make men thoroughly wise, and furnish them with such reasons as will not suffer them to be oppressed with their sorrows. Yet methinks it is observable, that the Egyptians mourned ten times as long as the children of Israel. Seven days ordinarily contented the people of God for their grief, (as you may see, Ecclus. xxii. 12, Job ii. 13), whereas they that were strangers to the God of Israel extended their mourning seventy days, as you may read, Gen. 1. 3; yea the greatest mourning that the Israelites used for their two famous leaders, Moses and Aaron 5, was prolonged but to thirty days, which is not half the time that those heathens allowed. I think not fit neither to pass by the shortness of Abraham's grief for his dearest wife Sarah, who died, as some of the Jews conjecture, for very grief, when he was at mount Moriah, thinkNumb. xx. 29; Deut. xxxiv. 8. f [Lam. iii. 39.] ing that her son was offered. This they gather from that expression, Abraham came to mourn for Sarah, and to weep for her h. From whence it was that he came I have nothing to affirm, yet this note of theirs is considerable, that in the , זעירא,to weep for her, there is a small Caph לִבְכּוֹתָהּ word in the middle of great letters, which may very well show, they think, that his weeping was little and moderate, and not of the greatest size. That expression is likewise taken notice of by some, which follows in the next verse, he stood up from before his dead; as if it signified, that he turned his eyes from her, that so he might not be overcome with grief. We must not love to look on our losses; nor think that it becomes us to weep as long as we can. But we should learn, by the manners of God's people, to do all we can to make our mourning short. Yea, I might teach you from heathens themselves, if examples would do us any good. Lycurgusi ordained that none should weep above eleven days, and that they should make no funeral solemnities. Solonk likewise took them away, that so he might ease men of those howlings and lamentations which they used to make at their friends' interment. Augustus 1, as Seneca observes, though he lost all his children and nephews, and was fain to adopt an heir, yet he was so little moved at their death, that he constantly went to the senate, and neglected no public affairs. Pericles likewise, having lost two sons of great hope within the compass of eight days, put on notwithstanding a white garment, and with a great constancy of mind went to deliberate about the necessities of the commonwealth. All stories are full of such great souls, that after they had conquered others, at last conquered themselves also. I know it will cure no man to tell him that his neighbour was cured; yet these examples do commend to us the remedies which they used, and give us hopes that our griefs are not incurable. h Gen. xxiii. 2. i Plutarch. in Lycurg. [cap. 27.] κ ̓́Ανανδρα καὶ γυνακώδεα πάθη,— Plut. in Solon. [cap. 21.] 1 [Consol. ad Marc. cap. 15.] SECT. IV. Which teaches us to consider what death is :-first, common ; secondly, necessary; thirdly, good. And if we thought more of it, we should not be unwilling to part; neither doth the manner of parting make any considerable difference. What it is that must ease us. THE cure of this distemper doth lie chiefly in a fulness of considerations, wherewithal our minds must be stored. Nothing can resist grief but a great mind; no mind can be great that is not big with truth; nothing can impregnate us with truth, but serious advice and consideration in ourselves; and therefore we must provide ourselves with sufficient antidotes that may be ready at hand when we have need of them. Our souls must be as an apothecary, and our hearts must be the ȧñо0ýкη, or shop where all medicines are in a readiness against any grief or malady that shall invade us. If we have our remedies to gather and to compound when our sickness comes, the mind will be so weak that it will not be able to make them. We have least power to consider when we are full of sorrow; our affections are ready to overlay our reasons, and therefore we must have our medicines made before, that then we may have nothing else to do, but only to take them. And we shall find that to have so much labour in it (our stomachs being squeamish and nauseating) that we shall clearly see we need have nothing else to do. The first means is to consider what it is that we lament. I. First then, let us seriously consider What is it that we grieve for? It is soon answered, that we mourn for the death of those that we love. For their death? What is that, I beseech you? Is death such a strange and unusual thing that we should take it heavily? Are your friends the first that ever died? Are you the only persons that God hath singled out to be left alone? Do you Death is an not see that every thing in the world can cause usual thing. death? The wind, the lightning, the fire, the smoke, the dust of the earth, the water, our meat and drink, our own passions, our joy, our sorrow, and a thousand other things can bring us to our graves. Why then should it be lamented, as if it were some wonder at which all the world should be asto nished? Men fill the air with sighs, they beat the heavens with their groans, they clothe themselves with darkness, and they pour out floods as in a tempest. Why, what is the matter? Is the sun fallen from its orb? Are all the lights of heaven extinguished? are they carrying out the world's funeral? What is it then that causes this moan? A friend is dead. There is one man less in the world than there was. O wonderful! What a prodigy is this! One that was born to die is dead! It had been a wonder indeed if he had not died. Then we might have filled the earth with noises: then there had been some cause for a tumult: but now it is rather a wonder that men should make such a stir at an ordinary and common thing, than that a thing so common should happen unto them. One would rather look to see no tears, than no death; and we might more easily excuse their weeping not at all, than we can these doleful lamentations. II. Is it not necessary that our friends should die? yea, it is Death is ne- so necessary, that it is a thing past, and cannot be cessary. recalled, when men weep most for it. If you can bring them back again with your tears, if there be any hopes that with the noise you make they should revive to comfort you, then you have leave to weep as much as you please. Is there any Elijah or Elisha that can stretch forth themselves upon them, and recover them to their warmth? Is there any Paul or Peter, or such great men, that can raise them from the dead? Go then, and entreat them for to pity you. Beat your breasts, tear your hair, break your sleep with sorrow, macerate yourselves with fasting, that they may take some compassion upon you. But if all this pains be lost, never put yourselves into it; but say, Why should I have my labour for my pains? And did not all those men die again that they raised? Were they made immortal here upon the earth? What good would it do you to have them called to life again, if they must again die? how would you be able to part with them then, if not now? What an uncomfortable life would you lead, out of fear every day to fall into the same sadness! How desolate would you be even in their company, unless you learnt not to be troubled nor distracted! And if that must be learnt, then let us learn it now, when it is as necessary as it would be then. Do you take it ill that the apple rots, and your trees decay, and your clothes grow bare, and that any thing in this world is according to its nature? Why then do you bewail it with such passion that men die, which is as natural to them as it is to be born? Would you have God make the world anew for your sakes? will you not be contented unless he make a mortal thing immortal? Is it not sufficient that you know it must die, and that he gave it to you that it may be returned to him again? Did he ever promise you how long you should have it? may he not call for his own when he thinks good? Do not other men pay this debt to nature as well as you? Seeing then it is both a common and a necessary debt, do not repine as if you did only pay it. He is an unworthy debtor that returns what is lent with a reproach to his creditor. And therefore give it up cheerfully; perhaps he may entrust you with something better. While David saw that his child was alive, he earnestly besought of God that it might not die; but when once it had given up the ghost, he anoints his head, and puts on other garments, because he knew God was not bound to work a miracle, though he might be inclined to show mercy". While there was life there was some hope of mercy; but when it was dead there was no hope of a miracle. And yet there is one thing that may be pertinently observed in that story of David, which exceedingly argues our folly. Though God had said by a prophet that his child should die, yet he earnestly begged that it might live. Men are not so earnest for that which they may be assured God will do if it concern their souls, as they are for that which they have all reason to fear he will not do if it concern their bodies. Men would have him recal his word, and alter his decrees in temporal matters; but they little mind the obtaining of his promises and the fulfilling of his word in spiritual concernments. They would have life as long as they please, which they know he will not bestow; but they seek not for contentment, which they may be assured he hath a mind to give. They would have him willing to let them enjoy their friends always, which cannot be; but they seek not to him that they may be willing to part with them, though they must part with them, and he would make them willing. n 2 Sam. xii. 16, 20. |