A SERMON Preached at the FUNERAL OF John Melford, Esq Of Nymet Episcopi, in the Diocese of Exeter.  
Who died (aged eighteen years) the 21st day of June, through the sad occasion of a fall from a Horse; and was buried at Southmolton the 27th day of the same month, 1692.  
By Tho. Easton, A.M. Vicar of Nymet Episcopi.  St. Luk. 13. 2, 3, 4, 5. The Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their Sacrifices; and those eighteen that were slain at Siloam were not sinners above all others. 
Therefore Doctrinally, Strange Judgements don't always infallibly denote the sufferers to be extraordinary guilty.  
Non Laudem quaeras; potius sed sustine famam. Immeritam famam despice: Disce pati. LONDON, Printed for Tho. Bennet at the Half-Moon in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1692.   

The PREFACE.  
THe following Sermon was preached at the Funeral of a young Gentleman whom I dearly loved: and it was never antecedently intended to be made more public than at the time of its delivery at the interment: But the misinterpretations that have been put upon it by some, and the various reports that have sprung from thence by others, have necessitated me to do what I never thought: And I am rather willing to submit the whole to a Public censure, than that I should lie under the suspicion of abusing the credit of the deceased Gentleman, or be guilty of that unpardonable Rudeness, of designedly blaming the Conduct and Guidance of his surviving Friends, which the uncertain Reports that I have met withal since the Funeral, do so plainly intimate. For I reckon now the noise is spread so far, that those who know nothing of this discourse, but only by bare report, and that too not begun or propagated upon substantial grounds, but as Mistake or Humour gave them first rise and vent, they would have presumed me guilty of all that I am accused, if I should decline this honest and safest way of a Justification.  
I confess 'tis no great wonder if Offence happen; but yet it behoveth all men to see, that they be not causeless: In this particular, I have sufficient reason to say, that it is not thro' my fault, if any are offended; 'tis to be attributed to some other original than the following Discourse.  
St. Paul complained, and thought it a very hard case, that he should be accounted an Enemy to the Galatians for telling them the Truth, Gal. 4. 16 (i. e.) 'twas very unjust, that they should be wroth with the Apostle for speaking Truth though it were harsh, and they fell under the inevitable Lash of a severe Conviction.— But MINE is a WORSE case, (i. e.) the cause of my being accounted an Enemy (if I am so accounted) is not equally manifest with that of the Apostles; for be had taxed them of transgression in particular Duties, and made the application of his reproof to particular persons, and for this the offenders against the Rules of Christianity were offended with the Apostle, that preached it to them.— Had I done so, I confess, it might have been a cause in some measure plausible to justify some severe demonstrations of Anger, and an evil Resentment. But even by Confession nothing is positive, only what is here mentioned is liable to misconstructions; and Those that don't know the circumstances of the sad mischance of this Gentleman's Death will be apt to ascribe it to a then present Intemperance.— But if that could have silenced this Controversy, or allayed this Heat, I then did, and now do declare, I was personally with him (within one hour) and neither his Relations, or myself, or other Friends could in the least suspect it.  
But if other inferences may be drawn from so plain a Discourse, whatever their tendency may be, or allowing them to indifferent suppositions, and so by consequence may afford some ungrateful Conclusions; I hope no good man, nor no wise man will say, that I am chargeable with all that Jarrago of Inferences, that either Wit or Malice, Ignorance or Curiosity may gather thence. My aim was not (God is Judge and Witness) to make scandalous reflections upon past actions, for I declare I know nothing whereof to accuse; but I thought, considering my method of discourse, what I said was fairly deduceable from the words; and if I have been particular in the directions, I am sure I was designedly general in the reproof.  
And that all those that shall please to condescend so far, as to give this little piece an indifferent reading, and afterward what censure they please, may know fully and plainly the reason why 'twas published, and judge from thence, whether there were any need of Jealousy or Discontent, which hath occasioned so wide and common reports; I have offered it to your view exactly in the same Method and Language that 'twas first written, without so much as altering a sentence, scarce a single word; (excepting only that in the repetition of some remarkable Sentences, there might possibly be some accidental Transposition.) And if the publication of it, may, upon second thoughts with deliberate perusal, satisfy those who are particularly concerned in the sad occasion of the Funeral, (that here are no particular Reprehensions) if it may have a favourable approbation from men unprejudiced; if it may any way tend to the Reformation of any Person, that so God may have the Glory, when these, or any of them happen, with the glory of God attending them, I have my only aim, and beyond those I wish no more.   
PSALM CIII. 15, 16. 
As for man his days are as grass; as a flower of the field so he flourisheth;  
For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone, and the place thereof shall know it no more.  
AMong all the troubles to which we are subjected as we are men, and which we have drawn upon ourselves as we are sinners, none is so dreadful as death: the thoughts of being removed from this present place of abode to another state, have deep impressions upon our Spirits, and they also very melancholy and distracting; and especially the more afflicting, when we find the events of such considerations to affect ourselves, (i. e.) if we lose a Friend, we are grieved: But if we apprehend Death calling for us in particular, it chills our Blood, and casts a Damp upon our Courage. Mirth and Jollity are neglected as insignificant and unsatisfactory; and infinitely various surmises do mutually disturb our incomposed Senses; so much that under the fears of approaching Death, we lose the very advantages of Life.  
And this natural aversion that all men have to dying, or a final dissolution, is mightily augmented by collateral causes, v. gr.  
1. Some are extremely fond of this World. They are here (as they think) well at ease, they have all that they can need, and that makes them suppose, and believe, 'tis all that they ought to wish for; and therefore, here they resolve to fix their Tabernacles; and in this Region of reputed Felicity, they would willingly continue a long time, (at least) and for ever if 'twere possible.  
Hence therefore some are unwilling to die, because they must by that be deprived of all those delightful Objects, and stripped of all those conveniences, in which they at present find so much Comfort.  
2. Some are afraid to die (or unwilling at least) and they are such, as have not the advantages of the former, but yet have some tolerable conveniences, and enough to counterbalance all their Troubles or Miseries in the worst sense, and many pleasant intervals of Comfort; And they never considered enough of a future state, to think whether there might be any thing better in another world, and therefore they would not leave this for an Uncertainty.  
If they have the mishap to meet with troubles, yet they are not lasting, and a new Enjoyment wears off the memory of a late bad accident— But now, if they should be displaced from such a state, whose circumstances they have so long reviewed, examined and approved, and immediately be lodged in another Region, with which they are utterly unacquainted, this would be such an astonishing thought, as the most rigid Stoic with all his Philosophy, could not easily mitigate, and the Venom of it would work so powerfully, that in a little time it would draw on that very evil which their fear was intent to prevent.  
3. Others are afraid to die, from the remembrance of an ill spent Life; they are men who have lived in an open Rebellion against that sacred Majesty which governs the Universe, but especially inhabiteth Eternity; but yet have not lived so long, or sinned so much, as to wear out all Sense of a Deity, or erase the natural Apprehensions of good and evil. But their memory is tenacious enough to mind them of what they did; and their Conscience tells them what 'twas, when done; and when upon a review of their past actions, they can only draw a sad Catalogue of Error and Folly, or wilful Transgression, and repeated disobedience, and yet at the same time their own hearts tell them, that those faults must be accounted for to a Sovereign Judge, who is infinitely just, and will neither be biased or persuaded to pass any sentence upon any Person, otherwise than the Merits of his Actions shall require: When by looking backward, he shall see little or nothing that he dares own, and yet looking forward, he can have no prospect of anything that he would willingly suffer; in a word, where there is no remaining hope of any thing, but a fearful looking for of Judgement, 'tis in this case no wonder if men be unwilling to die; for to such men death is only an inlet to damnation; which is the most amazing consideration that can be, next to the being in actual torment.  
But yet I say, if there were none of these accidental reasons to bring men out of love with death, yet even that principle of self-preservation, which is connatural with our being, would engage us to use all possible lawful means for our continuance here in this state and condition.  
'Tis true, an active faith, a firm hope, and an ardent love, will supersede all natural or accidental objections: and the zeal of a sound Religion will prompt a man to hazard his life unto the Death, as Act. 21. 13. says St. Paul, What mean ye to weep, and to break my heart, I am ready not only to be bound, but to Die for the Name of the Lord Jesus?— And the vast number of Martyrs, that have so willingly submitted to the Tyranny of Persecutors, doth fully convince us, that many in the World did not think life the most valuable blessing.  
But yet ordinarily speaking, this willingness to lay down our lives, though for Religion's sake, is a sort of Violence to our natural temper and constitution: and 'tis what no one can, and would do, if he were not first perfectly transformed, and altered from what he was; Nay, in short, this natural aversion that is lodged in the very original of our frame is abundantly manifest in that petition of our Saviour himself, Jo. 12. 27. Father save me from this hour, but for this cause came I unto this hour: (i. e.) the terrible apprehensions of his approaching passion, did so dismay him, that though he came into the World on purpose to suffer, yet he desired, that if possible it might be passed by: Mat. 26. 39 Let this cup pass from me, or at least that the time might be deferred▪— for we are so partial to ourselves, and so fond of our Ease, that an Evil which we fear, is as pungent as that which we really feel. And we have been told of some who have made their lives extremely miserable, only by antedating their misery, and suspecting that in time they might be so.  
I don't mean that this respected our Saviour, for he soreknew all consequences, and he knew that he should rise again, and be glorified at the right hand of God: But this respects men, who can see no further than to what is before them.  
But yet what Notions soever men may have of things, what projects soever may divert them, what thoughts to distract them, or what care soever they use for their Preservation, certain it is, that no man can continue long in this World: Our fears in this life don't set the other life at a greater distance; nor do our enjoyments here give us a surer Inheritance in this Life; but whatever our worldly circumstances are, our time here is but, and can but be short, for as for man his days are as grass, etc. p. 1.  
To collect and repeat to you the various Epithets and Emblems, by which the Writers of all ages have represented the Shortness and Uncertainty of our Life, is not so very material: The Egyptians had their Hieroglyphics, and the other Heathen their Maxims, and the Scriptures have their Allusions and Parables, their Representations and Similitudes; but I will go no further than the Text, which is very suitable to the sad occasion of our present meeting.  
Man's Life is as grass.] The Season of the year tells us, how soon it is withered, that which is green and prosperous in the morning, and but lately refreshed by a gentle Dew from the kind Heavens, is e'er noon, cut down, and by Night utterly altered from what it was; the Verdure of it is gone, and no Art can recover it again. So the Flowers of the field are beauteous and gay, more gorgeous than Solomon in all his Glory, Mat. 6. 29. and yet as soon as they are plucked from their Stalk, they begin to fade, and in a very little time degenerate into a loathsome Rottenness.— Nay, which is seemingly a less cause for any considerable alteration, the very Temperature of the Heavens, if but a little unseasonable, robs both Grass and Flowers of their Beauty; a rough wind, or a great rain makes both to fade; and after Once such an accident happens, it is for ever irremediable, and the Place thereof shall know it no more] (i. e.) they never grow in the same place, nor recover their lost Excellency.  
And such are the days of man; as for man his days are as Grass.] Man is weak and helpless, born to trouble as the Sparks fly upward, Job. 5. 7 (i. e.) by a natural and unavoidable Tendency. And yet not so continually vexed by cross misfortunes, but there is enough in life to deserve Commendation, and to cause a moderate content: As we rejoice to see a flourishing Meadow, though within few days, we resolve to strip it of its pleasant Verdure; or as we admire a pretty Flower, though within a short time that we have handled it, we are sensible that its Fragrancy will decay insensibly.— So in our Life there are many things which are pleasant and delectable, but their continuance is uncertain; ten thousand accidents may spoil a great Fortune; or a sudden and unthought of mischance may nip our blooming hopes, and in such a time as all things promise fair, there may happen (unawares) a sudden change, which shall alter the Scene, as much as cutting a Meadow, or plucking a Flower, causes an alteration in those refreshing Objects.  
But then the parallel is not altogether alike in all points; but with respect to man there is something of a transcendency. Man's days and all worldly advantages, are here but of a short date, and uncertain continuance, so far therefore like grass or a flower. But further unlike to either, for they as soon as they are corrupted, return again to their first nothing, but man can never suffer an Annihilation; The place of a man shall know him no more, (i. e.) a man can never live a second time in this world; but there is an everlasting duration reserved for all men in the next: And how fading soever temporal advantages may appear, certain it is, the subsequent state can admit of no alteration: the latter is a matter of faith, the former is the subject of frequent experience. Man's life, or his days are as grass.  
It was long since said Psal. 90. 10. the age of man is threescore years and ten, which comparatively to what men lived before the stood, may very properly be said to be but as an hand breadth, Psal. 39 5. But yet even this short period is but rarely attained, where one is permitted to conflict with the troubles and inconveniences of old age, t●n are cut off, or taken away in the midst of their days, Psal. 102. 24. Or yet, if all could be supposed to come to the utmost desirable period of an old age, with the concurrent advantages of ease, peace and honour, yet even still their days would be like the grass; For we know by Experience, that the Grass which we reserve for Winter, is mightily defaced by a blustering North-East wind, and what remains uneaten by Cattle, is trodden under foot, and by the return of the following Spring is all rotten. And so— the oldest age will come to a bound which it shall not pass over; for one day must be the last to every body. And our residence here below, being only among such objects as are various and mutable, we do by a sympathy partake of their Nature, so far, as to be necessarily subject to the same Inconveniences.  
'Tis true there are different distances of time when these things happen, but that is but as 'tis in all mutable things; some Flowers are very forward, but those as soon decay, others are later, ere they show their Splendour, and they accordingly continue longer.  
But then 'tis not only a natural decay or fading, which will one time or other infallibly attend them, which shows their mutability, but there is sometimes a force, and violence committed, and a rough storm, or but an unwary touch, may cause them to sink into nothing, sooner than else they would: in such a case nature is injured, and precipitated into an irreversible ruin. And in this case too, man's days are as grass: 'Tis terrible to think, (and I am sorry 'tis the present case) how many have been crushed into their Graves by surprising accidents.  
How (seemingly) inconsiderable evils have produced dismal, and yet lasting effects; how many children have been left Orphans, and how many women Widows, and how many parents have been deprived of hopeful and beloved Children, even by such sad casualties, as it lay not in man's power to foresee or prevent. Our own personal knowledge too fully assures us of this truth, and yet reports bring multiplied instances of such woeful mishaps.  
Those that have been well in the morning, and as promising as a Flower, have like a Flower (ere night) been utterly disrobed of all their Beauty; when all our hopes and expectations, all our future comforts, and present satisfaction, have in one instant been supplanted, and all possibility of looking for the same hath for ever been taken from us. The days of man are but as grass, he flourisheth like a Flower of the Field. I am sorry I must, (and I crave leave and the allowance of those who are most intimately concerned in our present loss, that I may; and I pray that it may not add new supplies to that sorrow which is already as great as so sad an occasion can deserve, only let it not be more excessive than Nature can support, or Religion justify) I am sorry that I must say, that this present Text hath now a very full and parallel, though a very fatal completion.  
This Gentleman was like a flower of the field (i. e.) he wanted nothing that might render him amiable, he had multiplied advantages both natural and accidental; v. gr. a good apprehension with a judgement equal to his years: and was very promising of being very serviceable in his Country, for which he was well capacitated by a plentiful Estate. And to procure him a public respect in the world, he had the Honour and Happiness to be descended from two very Worthy Families, of a truly gentile extraction, as well as an ancient descent; (though I would not insist much upon that, lest I should be thought to flatter those that are alive, and yet I ought not wholly to omit it.)  
The Honour of Parents doth easily procure a general reputation to their Posterity: and where there is an Estate proportionable to maintain that Character, such men are both loved and feared; which are two advantages, whereby a good rich Gentleman may do abundance of good: and such a man's example would effectually commend Religion, to the general approbation and choice of his Neighbours, who in spite of Precepts live by Example.  
He had also the constant and uninterrupted assurances of Love and Kindness from a tender Mother, and affectionate Sisters; as well as the general respects of all those who had the Happiness to be at all acquainted with him. In a word, he had that double happiness the Poet wished for, (i. e.) a sound mind in a sound body. Thus was he like a Flower, and indeed of as fair a figure as most of these adjacent parts.  
But alas! What did all these signify? He is cut down like a flower, and his days were but as the grass: One storm, one little accident hath rendered all these advantages useless.  
His Estate is lest behind him; his Ancestors are no more to be accounted to him, now that he is laid with them in the Dust: and of all his Friends (though they all lament his Death, yet) none can relieve him.  
All our most pious respects to our dearest Friends are superfluous, as soon as the Soul is parted from the body; and though Nature, and Civility, and Religion allow and command, that we perform the charitable Office of a Burial; Yet Reason, and Sense, and Prudence, and Religion tell us, that the passionate demonstrations of kindness, which the tenderness of the Female Sex doth easily afford, as well as the nearness of the Relation doth so readily prompt, are neither justifiable nor commendable.  
I will lament my Friend, as I am a man, but yet not so, as thereby to give the world any temptation to suspect that I am no Christian. I may be sorry for the loss of my Friend; but I must take care that I be not sorry as if I had no Hope. Nature forces me to grieve: but Religion shall give it its just Limits, that my grief may not be inordinate.  
And since the alwise God hath been pleased at this strange rate, to cut off this young Gentleman, just as we do the tender grass, since he who was a flower for his many desirable qualifications, is also like a flower withered; I advise, that all that hear of this dreadful accident, do think upon it for their improvement in Holiness.  
Many men are so fond, as, at any extraordinary accident to attempt to measure Providence; and cast about them, to see, where should be the cause of the great thing that God hath done. The Disciples themselves were not free of this fault. Jo. 9 2. Master, who did sin, this man or his parents, that he was born blind? But this is a fallible, and withal a presumptuous way to judge of the methods of God's Providence: Certain we are (or we are Atheists) that God hath a determinate end, in all things that happen in this lower world; but it is not proper for us, that we should be able to square his Providence with the various chances of the world: It rather obliges us to adore his goodness, in preserving us, and his mercy in sparing us; and that we who are as much grass (i. e.) as srail, and equally mortal as this young Gentleman, should yet be continued alive, when he is denied the further Privilege.  
And therefore to make this Text, and this particular instance of Providence serviceable to us, I shall infer these four things.  

1. That we do not value ourselves too much, upon what we have.  
2. That we do not too much addict ourselves to this world.  
3. That we make a seasonable preparation for a removal hence.  
4. That we moderate our sorrow for the loss of any Friend, how near or hopeful soever.   
These are all naturally contained in the premises, and these may be beneficial to the rectifying our mistakes, concerning the odds betwixt this and the other world; for 'tis too often seen, that those who have most of this world, are too regardless of the next, and don't dream of a change that may ensue.  
First, 
Inf. 1.  We should not too much value ourselves upon what we have. All the valuable blessings or conveniences of this life, are subject to change and casualties: nothing here below is permanent and lasting. All animae beings are useless and contemptible, as soon as their breath is gone; and the most solid inanimate bodies, do by degrees decay, and grow unfashionable: Marble is defaced by weather, and Silver and Gold will rust: but if this were not so yet we should not value them much, because they can't long be serviceable to us, for we can't live long to enjoy them.  
In Infancy we are careless of those things, that we esteem most precious in common estimate (in older age.) A new born Babe hath no comfort from a large inheritance, nor doth the care and labour of busy ancestors, who heaped up wealth like the sand, to leave their posterity a luxuriant fortune, at all affect them: But all that they need is a careful Nurse and good attendance; and if they are so happy as to enjoy these, they never project any thing future for twelve or fourteen years' next to come: And after that age, it may be, the flattery and information of some indigent or spongy dependants, shall swell a wealthy young heir with mountainous thoughts of incredible Riches, which are his undoubted right, and of which he can't be deprived; and from thence (it may be) he is hurried on to all those extravagancies, which are laid as temptations to pleasure by vassal confidents; till by easy degrees he becomes ungovernable, and mostly licentious too: and many times those malevolent insinuations have caused Minors to turn Bankrupt, and even forfeit their Estates, before they had lived long enough to enjoy them. And hence it hath happened, that those who had enough to live creditably with good management, and to convey to their Children a sufficient fortune, have themselves castrated their own Fortunes, and lived long enough to lament the direful inconveniences of their own too hasty Folly. So that in this sense (at least) our advantages, or expectations are but like grass or a flower; for those who spend madly in hopes of what they shall enjoy plentifully, die Beggars commonly.  
But say this be not the case. (For though in this degenerate age, there are too many instances to prove the ruin of fair Fortunes, even by this means, yet 'tis not always so, nor indeed is it mostly so; yet) suppose then a Family as well fixed, as they can be wished for by their Friends, or themselves desire: say their circumstances are such, as putteth them beyond the frowns of Fortune, and the worst of mischances shall not bring them to Necessity: Suppose them abounding with all conveniences and delights too, that they live in Wealth and Reputation, honoured and loved, in Health and Peace; that they have a numerous Progeny, which stand daily round their Tables like Olive plants, so that all that know them shall be forced to say; Lo! Here is one that is truly blessed, Yet alas how really inconsiderable are these things. N. B. If a Parent have but one fit of sickness, these things are scarce regarded. A Dropsy, or the Gout, or a violent Headache makes all these seeming ornaments appear invaluable; and the relish which those things afforded in health, becomes in a single minute insipid and contemptible.  
But if this do not happen, or if a man don't perceive their vanity by some inhabiliments of body, or some sudden discomposure of thoughts, and anxieties of mind during life; yet in death all these fair enjoyments, are in the twinkling of an Eye rendered useless;— And yet he that hath at this present all that he can wish for, shall in a little time as surely be deprived of it, as he now enjoys it.  
But suppose this don't first happen neither, (i. e.) suppose a Parent live a long time to enjoy what he hath (I mean, free from any personal troubles) yet if an accident (amidst his Prosperity) happen to any of those things which he calls his own, even that sowers the rest of his Enjoyments: But a sickness in a Family, fills the rest that are yet well with doubts and fears; but Death drives men to those degrees of Impatience, which they would blame in others, and yet think they may justify in themselves; or at least lawfully permit. And yet after all Disquietudes and Torments, the fate that hath befallen them is irreversible; and the remembrance of what they had, gives them a sad conviction that 'twas not lasting; and the consideration that they shall no more enjoy it, might instruct them too, that 'twas at best but like a flower: That, that should not be too much prized, of which they might so many ways be deprived; That no wise man should glory in that, of which so many casualties might rob him; nor think himself much the better for that which he is sure he can't keep long.  
Secondly, 
Inf. 2.  We should not too much addict ourselves to this world. I allow and affirm 'tis every man's duty to manage that Fortune, with which God hath blest him, and to convey it as entire to his posterity, as he received it from his predecessors. And he that doth not make suitable provisions for his Family, according to his Quality, is worse than a Beast in any sense, and in a religious one, worse than an Infidel, 1 Tim. 5. 8. Which is somewhat to be considered by those, who frolic away, not only their incomes, but their very patrimony; who revel to perpetual excess; who drown their own sorrows in Wine abroad, when at the same time, their Wives and Families are forced to feed upon their own tears at home; such there are, shame on them, who can so easily and incredibly cancel all the Obligations of Nature, and prove so unaccountably cruel to their own bowels, and yet put it off with a Jest; who squander away their estates, by Rioting and Drunkenness, by Folly and Madness; nay, who mortage their Reputation, and damn their Souls, only to please one single sense. And yet tell some of those Fellows, how imprudent they act, or how unreasonable it is, that one man should so impoverish a Family to future generations; especially that 'tis wonderfully unnatural to starve his children at home, which could subsist with comfort, upon his superfluous expenses, all these persuasions are slighted, and in a contemptible sort of way, some have answered, Let that God who feedeth the Ravens, provide for the Rooks. This is stupid wickedness, inferior to that of brute beasts, and 'tis a sordid temper, this therefore be sure is not contained in the caution; 'Tis not Care that we condemn, but 'tis too much. N. B. The necessary parts of our duty, are thro' a mistake stretched too far, and by that means perverted from their original intent.  
Because every man must improve his Talon, which he hath received, therefore some think, that they must not allow any relaxation; But they labour hard, and far hard; tyre their bodies, and rack brains, how to increase their wealth, and yet as their riches increase, so do their desires too: And by how much the more they have, by so much the more are they covetous and greedy.  
But this is to be too much addicted to the world, and this is that which by consequence we condemn. N.B.  
The reason why we should take some care in the world, even for the things of the world, is, because we do not know but we may need them; and God never allowed any body to be only an idle Spectator: and no body pretends to challenge to himself an immunity from all employments.  
But if a man have nought to do, he is exceedingly more uneasy than when surrounded with business; and it hath often puzzled many men's brains, how to dispose of some of those that they called idle hours: But now the reason, why we should not spend too much time upon the things of this world, is, because we can't tell how long we shall enjoy them.  
I really believe, no man would much perplex himself about fine houses, or new purchases, that was assured he should die within few months that he had obtained them; and yet this may be any man's fate; for the days of every man are but as grass: and therefore methinks 'tis not only needless, but madness, to be very solicitous in getting that, of which we have no assurance that we shall keep it, but innumerable arguments to convince us, that we must (or at least may) be deprived thereof in a small time.  
Now this caution of not being too much addicted to this ☜ world, is supposed to contain a twofold prohibition.  
First, With respect to those things, that we are apt generally to account necessary: such as are a subsistence for ourselves, and a competency for posterity. Even those, I say, we must be careful not to extend beyond their proper limits; but we ought to moderate our desires, by the rules of Christian contentedness: as knowing that every thing beyond conveniency, is absolutely superfluous. And those who have the greatest estates, can only have but food and raiment; that the rest is consumed by Servants, or reserved for Strangers, and it yields no other fruit than trouble or sorrow; trouble to keep it, and sorrow if it be lost. But especially he that is a great admirer of the World, is always unwilling to leave it; and yet so fading is his nature, that he can't long enjoy it; and therefore— from the uncertainty of our retaining the things of the world, we ought in prudence to regulate our longing after them; and because we can't long enjoy them, we should not much perplex ourselves in their pursuit, or weary ourselves in their acquisition.  
Secondly, But there is a worse case yet, many devote themselves to the world, upon no pretence of necessity, or convenience, but they rather become its slaves, and spend their whole time utterly in the pleasures which it affords, and in pursuance of its airy vanities; But this the premises do highly condemn: For if the uncertainty of our Life be a good argument, to prevent too much care in lawful things, much more is it an argument to restrain us from those practices, which are not only unlawful, but of pernicious consequence. He that is born a man, and endowed with a rational Soul, should consider, that he hath something else to do, than to live merely to the flesh: that 'tis a very irrational method of spending his time, to consume the whole of it upon his worse part; The remembrance of what little satisfaction, he hath had in his former frolicks, might induce a man to think, that there is somewhat more suitable to his excellent nature.  
The best of all worldly enjoyments, if they exceed the Limit of Prudence and Sobriety, may be pleasing for a time ('tis true) as long as men are bereft of their senses, through the height of Excess; (which is just as distracted persons reckon Fetters and Chains, an Ornament) But alas! as soon as they return to themselves, they find nothing but shame or sickness; an aching Head, or a weak Stomach, or rotten Bones.  
The transporting Pleasures of a Frolic all vanish in a night; and all that remains is a fear, that others will remember the indecencies of which they were lately guilty and have themselves forgotten.  
Therefore I say, considering those things are so truly vanity; that they are all transitory, which perish in the using; that they are but imaginary Apparitions, and at best no further grateful than they are fancied to be so, it will follow, that they should not be too eagerly courted, nor should we spend too much time in their purchase.  
Thirdly, 
Inf. 3.  Since our time here is so short, and withal so uncertain, we ought to make timely preparation for our removal hence. Man's days are but as Grass, consume in a moment; our days are swifter than a Post; our time is but like a writing upon a sand; and of this every one must needs be sensible, that ever looks abroad in the world; and yet there are not many that lay this to heart as they ought, nor do they consider their own frailty, when they see others drop into their Graves.— It may be on a Funeral day, or on the news of such a terrible mischance and fatal accident as this was; men may have some natural suggestion that mortality is certain, and death amazing; But the next merriment wears off the sense of it, and men follow their accustomed sports or business with as much eagerness, as if they should never die; and lay Scenes for strange projects, as if they were immortal: and till they find themselves arrested by the Messenger of Death [a grievous sickness] they fancy it will always stand at a vast distance from them. But this should not be so;— we know we must remove off from this stage, and for aught we know the time is nearer than we are ware.  
This Gentleman was as likely to live, as any person here now present; and yet within one hour that I saw him lively and well, I heard the sad news of that accident which drew on death irresistably, against all our good wishes, to the ruin of our hopes, and the grief of all Spectators. Nay the change was so sudden, and withal so violent, that Art and Medicines were useless, and the ready offices of all his Friends, were utterly unserviceable; but in a word, he was stupid in a moment, and continued so till he died, which was shortly afterward. And methinks this single instance is enough to add weight to the Argument, and enforce the inference, (viz.) that all men should provide in season for a removal hence.  
For who can tell, but the same or a like misfortune may befall either of us; (though yet, I say, considering the circumstances, they appear so amazing, that I hearty do, and every one may, pray, from such a death good Lord deliver us.) But yet allowing only that a sudden death is but barely possible; yet who in his wits would run the hazard of a following Eternity, merely for the Love of a fading, perishing, transitory, uncertain world.  
We must subsist, after our souls and bodies are separated; and therefore we ought so to spend our time in the body, that it may turn to some account for our souls, after our bodies are turned to dust; which I express, by making a timely preparation for our removal.  
There is no one thing in which men are so contentedly cheated, as in the notions of living and dying; nay worse, those who will not allow others to impose upon them, though but to the damage of a penny, will yet impose upon themselves, in this case, which is a matter of infinite importance: and many times hug their error so long, that it proves irrecoverably damnable, (i. e.) men drop into Hell, while they caress themselves with the fond hopes of a following Heaven.  
And this is a madness which possesses the generality of all mankind; they put death and the other world at a great distance, and then think themselves safe in all their extravagancies; there they revel their senses; indulge to Luxury; make provision for the Flesh; court the world; and make but a sport of damnation.  
And yet all this while, are confident, that they shall have time enough to reverse all this; and meet Death long enough ere it call for them:— And that after a life of sin and vanity, they shall die very devout Saints, and partake of their Blessedness.  
Unaccountable stupidity! What is this that so bewitcheth men! What Circaean Cup should have power sufficient so to intoxicate them! And so utterly to divest them of their Sense and Reason! Nay what Amulet is that, which can so powerfully resist the Force and Charms of the principles of Religion! and make them so regardless of another world! to which yet they may be transported, for aught they know, in the space of one hour.  
There are many who have served this World with the same zeal; coveted wealth with as much greediness; indulged themselves with as much liberty; carried themselves upon their appendent ornaments with as much state; in a world, that sinned as boldly, and yet with the comfort of the same security, in former days, that men do now:— And yet many of us can tell how short they fell in their expectations; that they died in the habit of sin, where there have been no appearances of any colour of repentance; and some in the very act, where Charity itself can hardly suppose it; at least, I'm sure Reason will not allow it.  
In a word, we have known some that have died in such a condition, as considering the circumstances, and with reference to the next world, I'm sure no man present would be content to die in the same condition for ten thousand worlds.  
Well: Allow this; but consider, if we use such practices, why may not we fear the some end: In such a case fear is beneficial; and foresight is greatly advantageous; and therefore we should prepare in season for our removal hence.  
'Tis a fatal delusion to reserve the practice of piety to the latter part of our lives: 'Tis an affront to God, that we should sin away our Youth, our Strength, and our Vigour, and at last bring him the lame offering of a decrepit old age, which is rendered useless to ourselves, through the frequent debaucheries of Youth, which no arguments could prevent: Briefly; Nothing can be said to justify those, who believe a future state, and yet all the time which they live here, make no provision for it. (For I reckon future resolutions to be nothing but a trick to silence their consciences in this world; though even those will render all resolving penitents inexcusable in the next, at the day of Judgement.)  
Now when I say, we must make a timely preparation ☜ for our removal hence, I mean two things.  
1. Parents must take care to educate their Children well; (expressed in the order of celebrating the Marriage in our Church, by) bringing them up in the fear, and nurture of the Lord; And Solomon, Prov. 22. 6. calls it, training up a Child in the way that he should go. There is nothing so much conduces to the making a timely preparation for our removal hence, as doth a virtuous education.  
When Children in their tender age, are accustomed to have an horror of any thing that is evil, that grows (with their age) into a perfect antipathy. And when they are only timely warned that lying, swearing, etc. will carry them to Hell, when they die, this will imprint such terrible apprehensions of damnation upon their memories, as no Device of the Devil or his instruments, can ever deface;— mwn so seasoned with arguments from terror, are proof against charms; and they will be afraid to do wickedly, because they know the end will be Damnation.  
† Oh! 
† Methink this should no more be a scandal; than it would be an affront to wish all men Saints.  How happy would it be, if all Parents would but take this care!  
But alas! Where is this almost to be met with? those who are extremely nice of every thing that relates to the bodily health, and welfare temporal of their Children, insomuch that (as we say) a Fly must not pitch on them, and think them extremely injured by any body, that offers but to contradict them, in every little impertinent humour,— Yet those very persons can be content to hear those very beloved Children, swear as soon almost as they can speak, and lie accustomedly, and miscall and curse their Play-mates, and yet at all this to be unconcerned: And in all this the Child must be humoured (forsooth) or his Spirits will be broken, though God be dishonoured, and his Laws trampled under foot.  
But alas! Whatever those fond Parents may think, I know that this comes up full to Ely's sin, 1 Sam. 2. 29. who honoured his Sons above God. For so those, out of a damnable Folly ruin their Children, only out of a fear, that they should ruin them, by restraining them.  
I will never persuade Parents to be hard hearted, or unnatural; But I say, if a Child do any thing that is evil, correct him how young soever; but do it with that Prudence, that the violence do not exceed his strength; Lest you prove a Murderer instead of a Reformer. 'Tis said by a wise man, Prov. 23, 13, 14. Withhold not correction from the Child: N. B. for if thou beatest him with a rod, he shall not die: Thou shalt beat him with a rod, and shalt deliver his Soul from Hell. N.B. For those little punishments in tender years, and before custom hath superinduced an habit, will create an absolute averseness to all iniquity.  
And therefore, I say, that those who have the care of Children committed to them, if they do not restrain them from sin as often as they find them guilty, either by Correction or Reproof, do what in them lies, to betray ☜ them over to Hell: And though the Indiscretion and invincible Ignorance of those Minors may in some measure excuse them from the formality of the guilt, provided they die in their tender age (i. e.) before they are come to weigh things according to their nature, or make a difference between good and evil; yet sure, this Indulgence of Parents, Masters or Guardians, can never be excused, nor will God let it pass unpunished.  
But then, if Children be allowed to swear, etc. when young, and afterward grow up to age, and set abroad in the world, and meet with such variety of temptations, 'tis then no wonder to hear that such are incredibly debauched. For when those who had no restraints in their Infancy, nor no Curb in their Youth, meet with old Practitioners in Wickedness, they don't come like Tinder to a Spark of Fire, but rather they themselves are all on a Flame, and want nothing but the mode of the times to be completely wicked; which in the more modern Language is (though damnable yet) gentile.  
Now, whatever you may think of this, I assure you 'tis a fatal truth: And I have heard of, and know those, whose Parents have allowed them (when Children) to practise constantly those several wickednesses, which men of Age ought to be ashamed of.— that when a Boy of ten or twelve years old, hath been able to swear briskly; lie fluently, or talk to his elders saucily, with a little mixture of Raillery; and to the Female sex a story of bawdy obscenity: In a word, if he have been able to play the Buffoon wittily, and act a Merry-Andrew with an air, he hath been as much admired, and commended, as if he understood all the depths of Learning, whether natural or Theological.  
And then pray, what hopes that such an one should ever restrain himself when abroad? Parents (naturally) have some awful influence upon their Children; and it must be a Rape and violence to their natures, to erase the apprehensions of it on either side. But sin is of a levelling nature: and the greatest contrarieties agree, and the most distant contradictions are reconciled, to make a Conspiracy in wickedness.  
But I say, those who thus set up in the world (as I may say) Licentiates in Iniquity, they generally grow from sin to sin, and never dream of a Judgement to come.— And no wonder, for they never heard of such a thing. For we can't suppose that ever such Gallants should go to a Church, or look in a Bible, or read a good Book, or hear a Sermon: Alas! No: That's none of their Employment, they have no precedent for so doing, their Fathers never did so before them, and therefore they scorn to begin.  
Miserable condition that these men are in! they never had any acquaintance with Religion, and which is the worst, of their case, their Consciences were stupefied, before they knew the voice of their admonitions!  
And thus must they perish eternally, except a Miracle of mercy interpose for their rescue; and that too, such a miracle as must come unasked, for such men (as I am mentioning) know no other use of the name of God, than to profane it by an horrid Oath, or intersert it with some impertinent or causeless curse.  
And how far, such as these are from Destruction, let all men consider: and yet through whose occasion let the world judge.  
But now in short, positively: Parents should provide for their Children, in this respect, sensonably, by giving them good instructions, enlivened by their own Examples. N.B.  
They must reprove them for little faults, and correct them for great ones; they must keep them to the strict observance of the rules of good Morality; and the exactions which Parents, etc. should demand from their Children in point of practice, must be severe (i. e.) admit of no diminutions: There must be no Commutation in the exercise of tender virtue; for that will by degrees tempt Children to believe that 'tis only indifferent.  
But now when Parents keep a severe hand, and a watchful Eye over their Children, and will allow no abatements of their duty: but encourage and reward them for doing well; and render Virtue amiable from the consideration of that credit that attends it; and Lastly, when they recommend Religion to their choice from the consideration.  

1. That God's Honour is concerned in it ☜  
2. That their own eternal Happiness depends on it; then Parents have done their duty for their Children.   
Secondly, And then there is no doubt, that those who have begun thus well, will ever fall back; those who are so forward in their way to Heaven, can't fail of arriving thither with ease and comfort, as well as be received with joy and glory. He that hath been accustomed to do well, will not admit of any temptation to bias him: but his whole conversation will be heavenly: his discourse always grave, as if seasoned with Salt, ministering Grace to the Hearers: his thoughts always limited; his desires bounded; and his actions will be so innocent, and withal his temper so obliging, and his society so acceptable, and withal so beneficial, that all that know him must commend him.  
And which is a comfort to himself, he is always in readiness for the coming of the Bridegroom.  
Preparation for death includes more than a Death-bed-repentance; or a faint Lord have mercy upon me. He properly, and he only prepares for death aright, who lives every day with that care and watchfulness, as if he were to die ere the night (i. e.) not to fall wilfully into any notorious sin, nor to allow little ones: but every night confesses the Errors and Miscarriages of the day past, and endeavours what he can to avoid the same in after times: In a word: 'Tis an Early beginning to live well, that can be truly accounted a timely preparation for our removal hence. N. B.  
Fourthly, 
Inf. 4.  We should moderate our sorrow for the loss of any Friend, how near or hopeful soever. The days of man are but as grass, says the text. All Flesh is grass, saith the Prophet, I say 40. 6. and all the glory of it but like a Flower: well then— Are you discontented that your grass withereth? Or are you perplexed that a flower fadeth? No.  
This doth not disturb you, for you know 'tis natural▪ Be it so; man's days are no more; but his removal hence is necessary; and will you, will you, it lies not in your power to prevent that sat, for that's a war in which there's no discharge. And therefore to be angry that our Friends die, is to blame the wisdom of God, who made them mortal: or to be discontented that we can keep them no longer, is to pretend to tell God, what season is proper for him to do what we would have done, which is to put ourselves above him: In a word, we have no more solid reason to be grieved that our Friends die (I mean grief to excess) than that a Stone descends; or Water is moist; or the Sun giveth light, or Fire burns; for all are alike natural.  
But it may be said, if ever grief be allowed, when our Friends die, as Nature prompts it, and there are not many who can conquer their passion so as to suppress it; then in extraordinary cases, it will follow that there should be extraordinary grief allowed? (will it not? may be a Question)  
I answer, no: or I ask to what purpose? will your Friend be the more easy after he is dead, if you tear your Hair, or rend your clothes, or break your Rest, or forbear your Meat, and pine yourself into a Consumption? If you you can think so; spare no Labour, but rather take incentives to heighten a disconsolate passion to any degree, this side your own expiration.— But if you can't suppose that the deceased Person, for whom you so lament, and whom you so passionately bewail, is at all benefited thereby, pray then to what purpose is it? Or why make ye this ado.— I am sure, it can be no comfort or ease to indulge those phlegmatic passions: reason doth not require them, nor religion tolerate them:— Or if no other argument can convince men, how unserviceable excessive grief is. in such a case, I say, that others shall shortly lament us, as we now do our late dear Friend.  
In a word, therefore in all the circumstances of Life, let our grief be moderate; 
Summ. & Appl.  in all our concerns of Eternity, let us be very vigilant: Let it be our care to have Oil always in our Lamps. We are but as Flowers; we know not how soon we may be gathered hence; let us be careful that we be not found unprovided.  
If God should think fit to call us off suddenly, are we now provided?— I know many don't care to put this question much to themselves: but they would rather inquire after others that died in this manner: but that is not any man's duty, for any one to mind more than himself, for himself. But this I know, and forwarn, and testify, (viz.) that where God continues the means of grace, and makes all men a free offer of glory, if they will but labour after it; If men will prefer a Lust to Eternal Life: Value Vanity beyond a Crown of Glory, prise a Bubble before an Inheritance which fadeth not away; if they slight the Threaten of God; and contemn his Judgements, and despise his Mercies, he will speedily execute Vengeance on those that so affront him. And though their time in general be but short, yet God will cut off such in the midst of their days, hasten their Destruction, and send them quick into Hell; and then they shall too late perceive their Folly, which now they would not suspect.  
On the other hand. If from the consideration of the uncertainty of our continuance here, we provide ourselves for a removal; and make it our business to look out that City, which hath Foundations, whose builder and maker is God, Heb. 11. 10. If from the thoughts of a speedy death, wear persuaded to mortify sin in our members presently; if from the remembrance of leaving this world, we are induced to fix our thoughts upon Heaven; If the thoughts of leaving behind us all our Friends, engage us to make Friends with the Mammon of unrighteousness; If the leaving our wealth, prevails upon us to lay up a treasure In Heaven.  
Then have we lived long enough, how little while soever we have lived; then death shall never be sudden, how unexpected soever it may seize us. Lastly, than our bounty, our honour and splendour, which are so many Flowers on us in Life, of which death deprives us, shall be all abundantly recompensed by a Crown of Righteousness; which shall be a lasting ornament to our head, to a never ending Eternity.  
FINIS