A SERMON Occasioned by the DEATH OF THE Right Honourable, THE Lady GVILFORD.  
By Philip Horneck, L. L. B. Chaplain to the Right Honourable, Francis, Lord Guildford.  
LONDON, Printed for Edmund Rumball, at the Post House in Russel-street, in Covent-Garden. MDCXCIX.   

The Epistle Dedicatory, TO THE Right Honourable, FRANCIS, Lord GVILFORD.  
MY LORD,  
WHilst others Mourn in Silence the Loss of the Deceased Saint, I must beg leave to make a Public Declaration of my Grief, though it must fall short of a true Sympathy with Your Lorship's; who, being Related to her in the strictest Alliance, best knew the value of her while Living, must sensibly perceive the want of her now Dead.  
This, my Lord, would Naturally draw on a Consolatory Discourse, were I not fully assured of the Presumption of such an Attempt. Your Lordship is furnished with better Arguments than I can give; the happy effects of which, appear in that true settlement and composure of your Spirits. I that saw Your Lorship's demeanour at the most Melancholy Juncture, with what Christian Courage and Constancy you received the News of My Lady's Death, how Glorious you risen above the Billows which threatened you, cannot doubt but the same Principles which fortified you at that time, have since confirmed you beyond a possibility of falling. Such exemplary Conduct, My Lord, was highly requisite to secure the Interest of Religion; for had Your Lordship failed in that great Point of Resignation, Hundreds that stood beneath your Shade, might have staggered in their Belief, when they had seen so Tall a Cedar shattered and broke by the assaults of Fate. But still Your Lordship's Grief was comely, your Lamentations well-tempered: All the Tenderness and Passion that could be fairly allowed, Your Lordship expressed; yet, at the lowest ebb, never betrayed a Sorrow without Hope. This was truly Great, and Rational; for, as a Philosopher of old observes, It is not Benevolence, but Weakness, that prompts a Man to continual Grief, and makes those only fear whom Reason has not sufficiently armed against Contingencies.  
And here I cannot but Congratulate Your Lordship upon bearing the Struck so well: For none can imagine how near a touch Nature gives, how piercing the Sufferings of one's Blood are, but those whose tender Bowels feel the Smart; and I dare affirm no Person, of such quick Resentments as Your Lordship is Master of, could have set bounds to their Passion: None besides your Lordship but must have fainted under the Load. In fine, No Person that had once enjoyed so voluable a Consort, but would have courted Solitude for ever. But Your Lordship has bravely Surmounted the busy Encroacments of Nature, and wisely considered that this Inestimable Prize was snatched from as by the special designation of Providence. Virtue has no security from the Grave; Death riots on the spoil of the best as well as the worst, Cato inquires of the Gods why Pompey should be vanquished by Caesar, who had much the better cause. We may likewise wonder, but with more Modesty, Why the righteous Perish, and the wicked Survive and Prosper. No doubt the Almighty has great reason for such severe dispensations, either that we are not worthy of them, or that me prise them too much: In this late sorrowful Instance, I hope, I shall not exceed the bounds of Modesty, if I ascribe the former to ourselves, the latter to Your Lordship; For Your Lordship must own, you Loved her, Loved her dearly; nay, Loved her passionately. This God saw, and, perhaps, deprived Your Lordship of so great a Blessing on purpose to draw of your Thoughts from all Sublunary things. This is the result of his boundless Knowledge, who foresees what is best for us, and mingles ill with the good things of this Life, Fears with our Hopes, Crosses with our greatest Pleasures, lest we should set too great a value upon any thing here below, and abandon Heaven for present Fruition. The Spirit is apt to yield in Prosperity, and we grow too frequently upon the liberal Distributions of Providence, till God humbles us by Affliction, recalls our wand'ring. Thoughts, and out of these Clouds creates a Glorious Day. As to these following Pages, I have little to offer in their behalf, and therefore must beg Your Lordship's Protection, both for them and myself. The first Essays, in any kind, are hazardous, but Attempts of this Nature are almost desperate. For upon such occasions we are unavoidably exposed to one of these two Censures, either of saying too little, or too much: The latter of which Imputations does no ways concern me; For how prevalent soever the Malice of the World may be, I will venture to affirm, that I have not, neither was I in a possibility of doing Justice to My Lady; For those Characters I have drawn are only Sketches of her Life; but could I have been led into her Retirements, I do not question but there might have been formed one of the compleatest Models that has been exhibited to the World for some Ages past. Indeed, those scattered Pieces of her Life, aught to have been touched by a more masterly Hand, but I had no power to dispute Your Lordship's Command, which will, in some measure, I hope, atone or the Defects. Here I must not forget to acquaint the World what repeated Hints. I received from Your Lordship to avoid all artificial Strains, false Colour, and suspicious Glosses. These I have strictly obeyed; nay, I have went so far as to lay asido even common Ornaments that I might not endanger the truth of the Character. And now, My Lord, it's time to ask Pardon for this trouble, but, at the same time, must beg Your Lordship to indulge one Plea (if it may be admitted as such) That the miscarriages of Young Adventurers are more excusable than others; especially where neither Rashness or Ambition has any hand in the Attempt. From these Crimes I can safely absolve myself; and if Your Lordship will be pleased to forgive the rest, it will be a mighty Encouragement to the green Erterprises of,  
MY LORD, Your Lordship's most Devoted Servant and Chaplain, PHILIP HORNECK.   

ERRATA.  
Page 30. line 25. read her for our   

A Funeral-Sermon ON Proverbs XXXI. xxxi.  
And let her own Works praise her in the Gates.  
THIS Chapter contains the True and Genuine Character of a Virtuous Woman, with relation to a Married State. The proper Offices and Employments are specified, and her Virtue is placed not only in Prayer, and Devotions, but likewise in the prudent Conduct of her Domestic Affairs; Instruction of her Children, and keeping much at home. These Qualifications the Wise Man exacts of the Female Sex, and prefers them to Beauty, Shape, or any other outward Accomplishments. Favour is deceitful, and Beauty is vain, but the Woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.  
And lest any one should Object, that it's possible, after having done so many laudable Actions, no person will set a due value on them, he prevents all fears of this nature, by adding, that her own works will praise her: And let her own works praise her in the Gates.  
The sole difficulty contained in the Words, depends upon that Phrase of being praised in the Gates. For the clearing of which, be pleased to observe, that in ancient times the public Seats of Judicature were fixed in the Gates of the City; to the end that all Passengers might see Justice impartially distributed; and if any Person, either going or coming, had any just Plea against the Sentence pronounced, he might offer it in favour of the Party Condemned. These Gates being public Places where all Causes were tried, and the common Transactions of the World brought in; the meaning of the Expression comes to this issue; even That a Person so Meritorious, as is represented in the preceding Lines, shall have the honour of receiving public Praise and Commendation. Her Praises shall not be confined to the single breath of her Neighbours, but proclaimed with a general voice; her Merits shall not lie concealed within the walls of her own House, but fly abroad, and become the sole Discourse of the Town.  
Here might be some useful Doctrines raised from the Text, but I fear they would be too General; besides; the Solemnity of this Occasion Commands me to particularise; and the Illustrious Virtues of the Deceased, to whose Memory we Sacrifice, Challenges from me more than the compass of these following Pages will admit of. A Person whose eminent virtues raised her beyond equality, and have now given her a proportionate Glory amongst the Saints above. A Person whose Death calls for general Mourning, but a transcendent sorrow from the good; a Person of whom the World was not worthy; In fine, a Person of whom should I speak but modestly, the time would fail me. The Theme is spacious and might well excuse enlargements; but I shall endeavour to keep within the bounds of your patience and attention. Truth shall be my Guide through the several Scenes of her Character; and indeed she wants no adventitious Glosses to smooth over the History of her Life. That Tongue is to be suspected which is purely tuned to the Ear; and Falsehood, we know, delights in borrowed Ornaments, whilst Truth appears more comely, and Triumphs in her Primitive Nakedness, and Simplicity. The Object will appear truly Glorious, without the advantage of false Mirrors, so that I am under no temptation of mixing the Colours to advantage, or making the Touches appear more lively, for her own Works shall praise her in the Gates. Yet this must not exclude our pious Officiousness, or debar us the pleasure of recounting her Virtues; it's fit they should be conveyed down to Posterity, that future Ages may admire, and commemorated at this time, that the present Age may imitate them. It is not sufficient to say that a Person was good, without amplifying upon the Character; Particulars always leave the deepest impression, and excite the Generous to emulation. But here I am at a loss where to begin, fresh Beauties crowd in and dazzle us, Wonders lie dispersed through the whole Series of her Life, and each Minute consisted of Actions Great and Memorable.  
The Infancy of most Persons is deservedly passed over, containing little else but Simplicities, and innocent Pastime; and Relators are cautious of introducing them upon the Stage, lest they should sully the Actions of their riper years. But here even these tender Minutes must not be lost; for whilst others of her Age pursued their Childish Diversions, she was attentive to good Advice; whilst others trifled away their time, she would be ask Questions surprising, and much above her Age.  
She was early possessed with an awful Reverence of God, and with the consequence of that, an esteem for Religion. It's true she had been excellently well Principled, as being under the Care and Direction of Worthy 
* The Right Honourable Foulk Lord Brook, and his Pious Lady.  Parents; and with Timothy, from a Child had been instructed in the Holy Scriptures. But still there was something too remarkable in her at those years, to escape our acknowledgement, viz. her Religious Doubts; for she would be scrupulous even about indifferent Matters, and could not be prevailed with to enter upon an Action which seemed doubtful. This was not the effect of Superstitious Fears; her Soul was ever exalted above any encroachments of that Nature. The truth is, she had formed to herself a due Notion of God's infinite Goodness, and from thence made this natural Inference, That he was of purer eyes than to behold the least shadow of Iniquity, which made her so strict and cautious.  
When very young, she expressed a strong desire to go to the Holy Sacrament, and would frequently entertain herself with the thoughts of that Bliss she should reap from thence. She soon became sensible of what she had promised in her Baptismal, Covenant, and was eager to confirm and ratify those Engagements at the Altar. But still she suspected there was too much rashness in her Desire, and forbore till she came to maturer years. These Holy Fears were sure Prophecies of her future strictness, and her Dawn being so Glorious, no wonder that the Day proved so bright.  
As she grew up, the impulse was so strong upon her, that it could be no ways resisted; and accordingly she appeared at the Holy-Table. But what Conflicts did she suffer? What different Passions struggled in her Breast? Fear left she should prove an Unworthy Receiver; Joy that she was admitted to so great an Honour, as to be made a Partaker of the Benefits accrueing from the Death of her Saviour. Her Transports after Receiving were too great to be concealed; she professed there was no pleasure on this side Heaven comparable to it, and that it was the richest and most satisfactory Banquet she had ever tasted. The Joy she found, was a mighty encouragement for her to persist in that Duty, and her preparations to it were strict and Laborious. All her thoughts came under Correction; and as she kept Minutes of her Life, so nothing of the least importance could escape her Knowledge. She was always free from Reserves, but before a Communion she would lay open her Soul, make the strictest Animadversions, and heighten each Trespass into a Crime; and even after the severest Scrutiny, would be self-diffident, and lay the best of her Services at the foot of the Cross. She looked upon it as an high Indignity to turn her back upon the Holy Table; and where ever she found a remissness in the Celebration of that Ordinance, she hearty bewailed the Neglect, and was forward in promoting so important a Duty.  
From her Infancy she was an early Riser; and what the Ancient Philosophers enjoined as necessary to the preservation of Health, she practised upon a Religious account. No sooner waking, but impatient till she was upon her Knees. She always began the Day with Praises to God for the past Night's preservation, and then hasted to her Closet to beg his protection of her the following Day, in a more humble and solemn manner.  
This Retirement generally lasted from Six to Eight in the Morning; part of which time was spent in Reading the New-Testament, with Annotations upon it; and wherever she lighted on a passage applicable to herself, or fell in with relations of Great and Exemplary Men, she would pitch on them for Subjects of her ensuing Meditation.  
She constantly Prayed five times a Day, and how she demeaned herself in the Closet, may be easily gathered from the order and regularity of her public Devotions. There was nothing light orsuperficial appeared through the whole Series of the Action; she perfectly Wrestled with God for a Blessing, and the Sacrifice was purified with Fire. So observant she was of the most decent Postures in Prayer, that when there was an absolute necessity for her being excused Kneeling, it was with great difficulty she was brought to comply. If once upon her Knees, no business of the greatest importance could raise her before the Service was ended.  
Indeed she was so entirely fixed upon the Duty in hand, as not to be ware of common Disturbances. No sudden Visits, or fear of breaking an Appointment could tempt her to a Neglect; and if any Person of the highest Rank came in at the beginning of the Service, she would invite them to join with her, and Congratulate them upon coming in so seasonable a minute. Her Zeal in this Case did not burn inwardly, but diffused itself through the whole Family, whose attendance she constantly required; and no excuse could atone for their absence, after she had given Orders that all Business should be postponed to the Service of God, or totally omitted, rather than any failure should occur in those Holy Exercises.  
And here the Transition to her Fasting is very natural. She constantly Fasted once a Week, but would not tie herself up to a set Day, on purpose to avoid discovery. When prevented by Company, or any extraordinary Occasions, from Fasting on the Day she proposed, the Concern was so great as to draw Tears from her eyes; and if any Business intervened on that day she actually Fasted, she thought the Mortification lame and imperfect.  
Her Abstinence in the time of Lent is almost incredible, arriving very near to that which the Primitive Fathers call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the Fasts of Superposition, the most exquisite sort observed by the ancient Monks.  
This was so far from creating impatience in her, that her Spirits were more composed in the Evening, and a double sprightliness and vivacity played in her Countenance, arising from Peace within, which was a continual Feast to her. Such a tender frame as hers, would have administered fear to others, and put them upon great caution in the Treatment of it; may they would have concluded such Severities impracticable, and sat down with the discharge of milder Duties; but she was unwilling to impose upon herself, and plead inability before an attempt.  
She was resolved to try the utmost of her strength, believing that uncommon Supports were vouchsafed to those who ran the Race with Cheerfulness; of which she tasted in an eminent manner, inasmuch as she was enabled to go through those Severities without any visible decay in her Health.  
The Recreations she took lay out of the common Road; for she could by no means allow of those which generally pass under that plausible Name. There was too much Impertinence, in her Opinion, allied to the common Visits of the Age, to be very fond of them. Besides, the many idle words, and detracting Stories which pass interchangeably at such times, discouraged her from being frequently engaged in them. Plays were Diversions she never admired; and if she chanced to go, it was owing more to the importunity of her Friends, than her own Inclinations.  
And to be plain, her complacency to the general humour of the Age, in this particular, was purely that Religion might not suffer any imputation, as if it rendered its Votaries peevish and ill-humoured. Whenever she went, she always informed herself first of the Character of the Play, never venturing to go, except represented to her as inoffensive to Good Manners; for a profane Expression made her turn pale, and jesting with Serious Matters chilled her Blood.  
Of late the Stage has been so Corrupted, the Characters so Obscene; in short, the whole Plot and Artifice of the Play so Destructive to the Great Ends of Religion, that she grew more and more averse to them. In all other Recreations she was so far from Transgressing, that she always kept within the Bounds of Christian Liberty. Her sprightliest Hours had their Alloy, for she qualified her Joy with Fear and Trembling; and her Diversions, to say the Truth, were Great, and Instructive.  
For want of Employment, Persons of her Lofty Station are apt to run into excess of Vanity; and not knowing how to spend their time, lie open to a thousand Temptations. Thus whilst they think themselves Privileged by their Quality to sit Idle, they insensibly fall from doing Nothing, to that which is worse than Nothing.  
Against this Danger she was fully secured, by being always well employed; Essays, History, Morality, with the like, took up all the vacancies she could spare from the stricter Duties of Religion. She had too fine a Taste to relish any thing mean or trifling. The Histories of our Nation she had made her own; and that Knowledge, which would have satisfied a common Curiosity, did but inflame her desire of knowing more; for she pierced beyond her Native Clime, enquired into the rise and fall of remote Empires, the variety of Laws and Establishments, with the like. These were the Subjects of her Entertainment. And there was nothing extant in our own Language, too great for her Genius to compass; for she had a wonderful quickness of apprehension, with that peculiar Blessing of a correct Judgement. Being always thus happily employed, little time remained for the lower sort of Diversions; neither was it possible for one of such exalted Principles to descend from those heights she possessed; for such studies as these fix the Mind upon what is laudable and serious, and prevent wasting the time in Luxury and Folly. And that Woman (as Plutarch observes in his Conjugal Precepts) who is studious of Geometry, will never affect the wanton motions of a Dance. And she that is charmed with the sublime notions of Plato and Zenophon, will look with disdain upon lascivous Novel and amorous Romance. Her collection of Books was very choice, and none could find admittance there but those which carried Use as well as Entertainment along with them.  
This Conversation with the Dead, was as pleasant to her as with the Living, and she hearty pitied those who complained of Solitude, and want of company, when they had such variety in their Closets; often repeating that old Axiom, That she never found more company than when she was alone.  
She was free from Passion of any kind, and could command herself upon the greatest occasions, without the trouble of running over the Alphabet. Indeed she was of so fine a Complexion, that no particular quality or humour had the Ascendent over her; and upon that account was not so apt to be raised on a sudden; and before it came to any dangerous height, she had time to prepare herself against it. There was such a due balance in her Temper that it kept her from unusual Transports on one hand, and mean Depressions on the other. The only thing that was able to create a changein her, was, The loss of a dear Friend or Relation: At such a Juncture, the tenderness and flexibility of her Soul was displayed; But these were Resentments which proceeded from a Principle of Nature, and were out of hers, as well as others power to prevent. And indeed the contrary, which is the Stoical Apathy, or rather Brutish Insensibility, extinguishes all that sociable Love which is so very necessary to the Creature, and the very Cement of human Society. Still, at the Crisis of such a Trial which was as painful to her as a severed Limb, She never parted with her Reason, but always conquered the Passion before it became .  
Gracious and pleasant, like a Morning Sun, she broke forth upon all, as well Strangers as Familiars. There was a settled cheerfulness dwelled on her Brow, which bespoke her always contented, such happy Lines as expressed the Sincerity of her Soul. To this was joined a wondrous Humility, easiness of access, and condescension both to the Ignorance and Weakness of others, tho' she knew at the same time what was due to her Station, as well as any of her Rank; but she could not endure a servile distance, considering all Christians as fellow Members of the same Body.  
These mighty Gifts and Accomplishments soon made her Conspicuous, and drew not only the Eyes, but the Hearts and Affections of all People unto her: Still amidst these Applauses she maintained her Ground; she industriously shunned Popularity, and affected to live in Shades: But Alas! that was a vain Attempt; for the Beams of her Goodness soon pierced the Cloud which had concealed it, and discovered her in the most private Recesses. There are few Persons but what are ambitious of telling the World what they know; and this Vanity is more excusable in the Female Sex, when they arrive to such distinguishing Heights: But certainly no Person that ever knew, or did so much, cared to inform the World less of it. Themistocles was wont to say, That the sweetest Music was a Man's own Praise. She was just of the contrary Opinion; and nothing was more untuneable, than to hear People run out into Eulogies and Commendations of her. She thought Praise too nearly related to Flattery and Lies: and as she never admired herself, so she could not bear to be commended by another.  
She often expressed a great Contempt of the World, and thought no Time so ill spent as that which was laid out in Dressing. Trains and Attendance were always uneasy to her: She accounted Greatness no better than Gilded Slavery, and many Servants but a civiler Sort of Guard. The Plainest Dress pleased her most, and if ever She put on any thing more Airy and Ornamental than usual, it was to avoid Singularity, and to comply with those Persons whose Commands She never disputed.  
She was very nice in the choice of her Friends; civil to all, only the Good were dear to her; and those that had the Honour of being esteemed so, might conclude themselves happy; for (not to mention her readiness to assist them in their greatest Exigencies) in the strictest Friendship She would never omit reproving an Indecency; for She thought mutual inspection and advice to be the proper Branches of it, and was as faithful to her Friends as their own Consciences. As She never was prepossessed against any one upon a doubtful representation, so She would not contract an intimacy upon the score of 2 or 3 plausible Actions, but would first observe the variety of their Sentiments, Turns and Affections, at different Junctures; and if they answered her expectation, they were Enrolled amongst the happy number of her Favourites. This made her Friendship more Valuable and Lasting: And, after she was once fixed, it was no easy matter to displace her Esteem.  
Her Charity had no Bounds; all Tasted of her Benevolence; and I dare affirm she never dismissed a true Object unrelieved. But she would not stay for their coming to ask a Boon: Her care and vigilance Anticipated their Requests, and the frequent Supplies she conveyed by different Hands are standing Monuments of her Bounty in that kind.  
She was a strict observer of the Sabbath, and never missed the Public Service of the Church, unless prevented by Sickness; and even at that time the uneasiness upon her Spirits, for staying away, was so great, that without a Gracious Providence, might have increased the Malady. Her attention at Church, was always fixed; and having the advantage of a Tenacious Memory, she could easily Command, not only the general Heads, but likewise all the material Passages in a Sermon, which she committed to Shorthand before Dinner, and afterwards digested more Regularly, in order to ruminate on them the succeeding Week.  
Her Inclinations were very much bend to a single Life; fearing that the Encumbrances attendant on a Married State would engross too much of her time. But all these Jealousies vanished when she found so Pious and Cheerful a concurrence in her Noble Lord for promoting those good Designs she had formed to herself beforehand. And here I must not omit one thing which I have in Command to make Public, viz. that My Lord found her Example and Persuasion of that infinite use and advantage to him in the Affairs of Religion, as to own her the happy Instrument, next under God, of reviving those good Habits which were near Dying in him through neglect of Improvement. This no ways depreciates the Character of that Great Man. This is no more than what Men of Rank and Eminence have confessed before. Valerianus owed his Conversion to his Wife Cecilia, Sizinius to Theodora, and Adrianus was tempted to Die a Martyer through the Instigation of his Wife Anatolia.  
Further, all that had the Honour of knowing the Deceased Saint, must confess her Power was Irresistible: And no wonder she had such an Influence over Him in a concern of this Nature, where besides the Commanding Excellency of Religion, Love on his side prepared the way, and Innumerable Charms on here's where always ready to Second the Request.  
To amplify at last upon her Duty, Love, and Honour; To tell you she was singularly Prudent in the management of her Domestic Affairs, That she was a Woman of the truest Conduct, and Studious of the Credit of her Lord, were but to lessen the Dignity of the former Characters; for no one will suppose that a Person who made so great a proficiency in the Sublimest parts of Religion, could possibly fail in the Subordinate Points.  
Yet there is one thing more that deserves our Remembrance, viz. Her Meditations upon most of the Evangelical Duties, which I have had the Honour of perusing since her Death. They are all Lofty and Divine. The strains of them are raised so far above the Common level of Mortality, that they appear to me no less than the Raptures of expiring Saints. Whether they are all of her own composure, I am not able to determime: But sure I am there is an accession of her Thoughts by the Style and Tenor of the writing.  
In the Zenith of her Health, She would frequently be talking of her Dissolution, and speak of Death as of a Familiar Friend; and I know no Parallel so exact as that of the Famous Marcelia, St. Jerome's Friend, of whom the Pious Father reports, That she constantly led such a kind of Dying Life, that she fancied herself Old and Decaying before she Remembered that she was Young and Handsome; and every time she disrobed herself, still the thoughts of shifting her Earthly Tabernacle Sprung up in her Mind. Thus the Blessed Soul spent her Days. And now the Tragic part comes on. Here I could willingly be excused, and with Timanthes the Painter throw a Veil over the rest. But there were too many Observables in the last Minutes of her Life to lie concealed. Here Illness was sudden and surprising, and the fierceness with which it assailed her at first, seemed to carry Mortality along with it. However she had nothing to do but to Die; and had the first stroke proved Fatal, she could have departed with Old Simeons' Faith and Assurance. But God was pleased to respite her for some time. After she came out of her Fits, which continued for two Days, with little Intermission: She expressed no Impatience tho' her Tortures were excessive. No sooner had she gathered up a few Remains of strength, which were all too little to combat with the Distemper, but she employed part of them in Praises to God for the seeming Deliverance. The Night before her departure she renewed her Petitions with such Vehemence, that nothing but immediate relief could have secured her from fainting away. After this the favourable Symptoms vanished, and we could no longer flatter ourselves when the decay was so visible; yet she retained a Quick and Active sense, and as her Spirits flagged and denied her utterance, her Holy Breathe increased. A peculiar Sweetness lodged on her Countenance in the Bitterest of her Pangs, and her Face seemed to be impregnated with Heavenly Light. Being made sensible of Approaching Death she discovered no change, but talked free and unconcerned about her Funeral. No Discomposure appeared in her but what the Tears and Groans of the sorrowful Attendants created; and that proceeded from a Tenderness of Soul in her, for she was intirley resigned and more prepared to departed than we were to lose her. As our Sorrows increased she endeavoured to. moderate them, and comforted us with the possibility of her Living, tho' she knew it was her Gain to Die: And indeed she was the fittest Person to give Advice, even in those languishing minutes, as being more settled and composed than any about her. Her Soul was serene to the last; and no wonder, since she had this Testimony from her Conscience, That in Godly Simplicity and Sincerity she had conversed in the World. She called for the Blessed Sacrament some Hours before her Departure. That was always her proper Cordial; but at this juncture it revived her beyond the Richest Drops; for her Strength and Activity after receiving was Remarkably Superior to what she had possessed some hours before, and had her Spirits continued Fresh and Vigorous to the end, had her Power been equal to her Desire, How Seraphic would the last Act of her Life have been? What lively Descriptions would she have given us of the New Jerusalem? In what Heavenly Raptures would she have given up the Ghost? But God in his infinite Wisdom thought fit to deny us that Bliss, whilst she, happy Soul! possessed it all within. A silent Joy had filled all the Channels of her Soul, and like a Deep Stream ran gently through her. A Joy she had which was better felt than Expressed. A Joy arising from a full Confidence in God. A Joy Immense and Ravishing; and in the middle of the Comendatory Prayer resigned her Innocent Breath into the Hands of a Faithful Creator. Thus the bright Star Expired: Thus the Glory of the Age, the best of Women, Dyed, and her Longing Soul soon took its way to the Mansions above. Thus fell the Beauteous Pile, and the sine Lineaments of her Face soon lost their splendour. Thus the Temple was destroyed, and the Fair guest soon quited its abode. Yet still the good Works she hath done are left behind her: They will Praise her in the Gates and give her Immortality. They will Survive the short date of Inscriptions, and proclaim her worth beyond the reach of Talkative Tombstones. This can only qualify the mighty loss, whilst the contemplation of her Divine Excellencies must give us a lively Image of what she was, and present her as Living, to our view. It was not barely the descent from llustrious House that could have embalmed her Name: Honour of its self is but a short lived Meteor, which no sooner appears but Dyes., unless supported by virtuous Actions, but here was Greatness and Goodness in conjunction, which will make her Shine with a double Lustre. It's an easy matter to convey a Name down to Posterity; the worst as well as the best Actions have been commemorated; but to be talked of with pleasure and to be Numbered amongst the Just in future Ages, is the only thing that can make us covet to be Remembered. This must not tempt us to affect Vainglory, or do good Works for Ostentation sake. In a true Piety, tho' many commendable Actions may lie concealed, yet enough will be discovered to satisfy the World that we are really better than we appear to be; and few eminently good have Died unregarded, tho' it has been their Fate to live in the remotest Corners. To instance no further than in this Pious Soul now resting with God, none could be more silent in their Devotions; Indeed her greatest Actions lay most retired from common inspection, yet all her Industry could not prevent their being known.  
What remains now but to propose this great Example to your imitation? And there needs not many Motives when the Intrinsic Charms are so inviting. Would you be admired by the Pious in your Life-time, or bewailed in the Grave? This your good Works must procure you. Are you fond of an honourable Name after your Decease? This your good Works must Establish. In fine, Would you appear truly Glorious to Posterity? Your Goodness must create the Rays. And are not those great Inducements to be virtuous? Are all our good desires extinct? Is all our Zeal decayed? Will none of these Arguments work us up to a resemblance of these Graces, or raise in us a Spirit of Emulation? Themistocles we hear complaining, that the Trophies of Miltiades will not let him Sleep; And shall not the much greater Achivements of this Female worthy, Rouse us from our Slumber? Let us no longer trifle away our Time, but fothwith set about the good Work, and Tread in our Steps. This will furnish us with a Joy ineffable when we come to lie upon our Deathbeds. This will create Peace within; such a Peace which the World cannot give. The Thoughts of having done well will make our Death easy, and our Passage sure to those Eternal Seats above. Our good Works will make us smell sweet in the Grave, sweet as Flowers with the Morning Dew upon them; such pleasant Odours has the 〈◊〉 Saint left behind, whose loss we deplore; such as will ever Flourish and Maintain their Fragrancy. Histories shall perpetuate her Name so long as the Sun and Moon endures; and at the Resurrection of the Just her good Works shall be proclaimed in the Gates of the New-Jerusalem.  
FINIS.