A Funeral Sermon FOR THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, THE Lady Frances Digby, Who Deceased At Coles-Hall in Warwickshire, on the 29th of September, 1684.  
BY JOHN KETTLEWELL, Vicar of Coles-Hill in Warwickshire.  
LONDON, Printed for Robert Kettlewell at the Hand and Sceptre over against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleetstreet. MDCLXXXIV.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, Simon Lord Digby, BARON DIGBY Of GEASHILL.  
My Lord,  
IN compliance with Your Lordship's Desire, I here present You with this faint Portraiture of your Dear, and Excellent Lady. Those rare Virtues, that endowed her Noble Soul, had mightily endeared her Person, and will always embalm her Memory, among those that knew her. But as they rendered her a Blessing to this, so they prepared her for the Converse of Angels, and Blessed Spirits in a better Place: And to complete all his other Mercies, God has Crowned all his Graces in her, which were ripe for Glory, by taking her to be Happy with himself. Had he lent us the Blessing for a longer Time, her Life would have been most truly instructing, and had the daily use and benefit of a Sermon. But since it has pleased him to take away the Original, 'tis pity the World should want the Copy too, and lose the Benefit of her Example. Your Lordship has already reaped much Profit, and is still in hope to receive more, by reflecting on it Yourself: And You trust it may bring a like Advantage, and serve to kindle and cherish like Inclinations, in the Hearts of many others also. I am sure it is very fit for General use, and will do good to all that hear of it, if they are not wanting to themselves. For she was a very lively Draught of many excellent Virtues; and they must either be perfectly Good, (as none are in this World) or extremely bad Souls, who cannot improve by being set in the Light of such Patterns.  
One main Hindrance of this good Effect, my Lord, is the suspicion of Flattery and Insincerity in these Discourses, as if in them Men were not careful of strict Truth, and sought not so much what may be truly said, as what may set off their Subject. I cannot promise this Relation any Security from such Censures, since the truest, and most faithful Accounts in this kind, cannot always avoid them. But I have this Testimony in myself, That in the Description I have given of this excellent Person, I have spoken nothing to deserve them. I have represented her as most exemplary, and imitable, in Modesty, and Sincerity; and I am sure I have had a great Concern upon me, not to lose either in Discoursing of her. I know there is not only Sincerity, but Care too required in every one, who will take upon him to be a Reporter: And this I have held my Eye upon, in all the Parts of her Character. I freely confess to Your Lordship, my Aim has been to speak too little, for fear of saying too much; and that I have designedly used wariness in several Expressions, lest venturing to the utmost Bounds of Truth, I might happen to step beyond them. And whatever Judgement they may pass, who knew little of her, I have this to satisfy myself, and the World too, that they who knew her best, and especially Your Lordship, will say this is not only a True, but a Modest Character.  
I heartily wish, my Lord, this Draught of Your Dear Lady, were fitter than it is, to serve Your Lordship's Ends, of rendering her Example useful to the World, and doing Honour to her Memory. I hope, through the Grace of God, and Your Piety and discreet Care, that the Representation of her Virtues will not renew Your Grief, which shows her to be set above it. For it would trouble me to think I have sent a Companion into Your Retirements, to minister to Sadness and dejected Thoughts, and render this Service, which is performed with willingness, uneasy in the Remembrance of it, to,  
My Good Lord, Your Lordship's most Affectionate, Humble Servant, John Kettlewell. From your Lordship's house near Coleshill, Oct. 23. 1684.   

A FUNERAL SERMON For the Right Honourable, The Lady FRANCES DIGBY, Preached Oct. 5. 1684. at Coles-Hill in Warwickshire,  On Prov. XIV. 32. — But the Righteous hath Hope in his Death. 
THese words describe the different State of Good and bad men, and show how happy the one, and how wretched the other are, when some great Affliction, especially when Death seizes them. In the Time of Health and Prosperity, the Wicked often seem the happiest Persons; they enjoy so much of the Bounty of Providence, as if God were pleased with them; which puffs them up with a conceit of their own Happiness, and makes others envy them. But when any great Distress, especially when Death comes, that always makes the Discrimination. Transgressor's then are in a most deplorable State, and most destitute of Comforts when they most need them. But the Righteous have a good Support, and begin those Joys, which will never end, or be diminished. The faster they are flying from the World, the nearer they approach to Almighty God: When their Condition seems at the worst, 'tis really almost at the best; for than they are upheld by a cheerful Hope, and are presently to be instated in the joyful Possession of an everlasting Kingdom. The Wicked is driven away in his Wickedness: i. e. When great Distress, especially when Death comes, he can promise nothing to himself, but is driven from all his Hopes by the Conscience of his own Wickedness, which bids him still expect more, and greater Miseries: But the Righteous knows he shall be a Gainer by it, and has hope in his Death.  
This difference is not always true in Point of Fact, as if good Men always left the World with a quiet Mind and comfortable Hope, and ill men in Horror and Astonishment. Thus indeed it often is. For the Righteous ordinarily die in Peace, and that is enough to verify the Text, which is a Proverbial Speech: For Proverbs do not express a Rule that never altars, but that doth not alter ordinarily, in the usual Observation and Course of things. And the Wicked oftentimes are full of Fears, especially when they have been guilty of Gross and Crying Sins, which are more apt to strike Terror upon the Conscience. But tho' in the Case of good men this do generally fall out, and in the Case of bad men very frequently, yet in neither of them is it constant▪ For some Righteous Souls are misled in judging of themselves by Scrupulous Principles; or are full of melancholy, which is a timorous Passion, and betrays them to unrreasonable Fears: And they, it may be, die with troubled, and terrified Consciences. And many of the Wicked are possessed with a presumptuous belief of God's Goodness; or are full of Pride and Self-Flattery, and, by mincing and hiding their own Faults, and unreasonably magnifying every little Performance and Attainment, think too well of themselves: And they die swollen big with hopes, and vain Confidences. So that in Fact, tho' it be ordinarily, yet sometimes it is not true, that good men have Hope in their Death, and ill men want it.  
But tho' it be not always true in Point of Fact, yet it always is in the Ground and Reason of it. A wicked Liver has always 'Cause to be dismayed, tho' he will not believe it till he feels it. And a Righteous man has always 'Cause of hope in Death, if he has but the understanding to discern it. And whether he see it or no, he shall be sure to find the Benefit, and be a Gainer by it. And in this Sense the Words admit of no exception, that when the Wicked wants, the Righteous has hope in his Death, i. e. he has most just Reason so to do.  
In discoursing upon these Words, I shall show,  

1. Who the Righteous man is, to whom this Privilege belongs.  
2. What are his hopes, that make Death a desirable thing to him, which to others is the King of Terrors.  
3. Apply this, to allay our Grief and Sorrow on the Death of Friends.   
1. I shall show who the Righteous man is, to whom this Privilege belongs. And that is every man, who has lead a good Life, and has not allowed himself in any known Sins, but had a regard to all God's Commandments.  
He is one that has led a Godly Life. This is the true Test to descry who are Righteous, which we are to judge of, not from some Religious heats, or transient Convictions, or good wishes; but from the Tenor of a Pious Practice. He that doth good, saith St. John, is of God, 3 Joh. 11. and again, let no man deceive you in this Point; for he that doth Righteousness is Righteous, even as he is Righteous. 1 Jo. 3. 7. And it is the only sure Ground of Hope for dying Persons. He must have lived Holily, who would die happily, for it is nothing else but an holy Life that can make happy. That is the only sure Preparation for Death, since it is the main thing to be inquired of after Death; for then men shall all be judged according to their Works. Rev. 20. 13.  
In one Case, 'tis true, good Purposes will make happy, tho' a man has never practised them. And that is in the Case of such dying Penitents, as God sees have both Sincerity and Strength enough of Godly purpopose, and by means thereof would certainly Practise well if they had but Time. But as for these, they are so very few, that they seem not to be of any great account in the Description of the Righteous. Conversion, in the ordinary course, goes on by steps; Gods Grace is infused, and our wicked Lusts are mortified by degrees; and without an unwonted, and extraordinary Grace, (which no man must expect, and least of all they who have slighted all Gods Gracious offers to the very last,) it is not to be begun and finished in the last Moment's. The Righteous ordinarily, are only such, as have done Righteousness in their Lives; and among all the numerous Attempters, 'tis hard to find those, who can succeed and become Righteous, by forming good Resolutions upon their Deathbeds. And as for those who do then become such, it is more than they can know themselves. For no man that is only beginning to resolve well, can know the strength and efficacy of his own Resolutions, till he comes to try and Practise them: And till he knows that, tho' he may have the Safety, yet he can not have the Comfort and the hopes of a Righteous man. Bare purposes, rarely give Safety, but never Comfort to a dying Person; so that the Hopes of the Righteous must not rest on them alone, but have something else, viz. a well led Life, to bottom on.  
And this Life must have been uniform in all Duties, when a man has not allowed himself in any known Sins, but has had a Regard to all God's Commandments.  
Some parcel out the Law of God, and think to be Righteous for performing some particular things. This some of the Jewish Doctors made very easy, declaring that a man might be Righteous by observing any one Commandment which he pleased. For these are some of their Rules. 
* See Mr. smith's learned discourse of a legal Righteousness among his Sel. Discourse. c. 3. p. 290. etc.  Qui dat operam Praecepto, liber est a Praecepto. He that exercises himself in any one Precept, for that time is freed from minding any other. And again, whosoever shall perform any one of the 613. Precepts of the Law (for so many they are according to their reckoning) without any worldly respect, for Love of the Precept, shall inherit thereby Everlasting Life. But when they would be more secure, and act more commendably, they would not content themselves with any of the Precepts indifferently, but make a choice, according to the estimation which they thought God himself had of them. For they fancied, that he did not rate all his Laws equally, but esteemed some more than others: As the Lawyer plainly showed, when he desired to be satisfied which was the great Commandment of the Law, Mat. 22. 36. and the young man, when he asked what good thing he should do to have Eternal Life, i. e. of all the good things whereto Life is promised, whether was the Sabbath, or Sacrifices, or which other Precept best; what was that good thing, which would most secure it, Mat. 19 16. And fancying there were some such darling Precepts, they thought he was most sure to be acceptably Righteous, who had the good luck to hit upon that Command, which God most accounted of. And the like Opinions, tho', God be thanked, not authorized by the common sayings of our Doctors, are most unhappily got into the Hopes, and Practice of too many among ourselves; nay, alas! of the generality of Christians. For they too often think to pass for Righteous men, only on the score of some particular Observances, as being constant in Prayers, or Liberal in Alms, or zealous in God's Cause, especially if that be in some notable instance, and performed with great hazards; without having an Eye all this while to their whole Duty, and whilst at the same time they allow themselves in some known Sins. But whilst after this rate they mangle the Law of God, and parcel out their Duty, their thoughts of Righteousness are but a Dream, and all their hopes a vain Presumption. No Duties will save us when they are singled out from the rest, and stand alone; but only when they are all in Conjunction. St. Paul instances in two, viz. Giving all he has to feed the Poor, and giving his Body to be burnt in Martyrdom, which will easily be allowed to have preference before all others. But yet, says he, if these go by themselves, and have not Charity, which, as he describes it, v. 4. 5. etc. besides Alms, contains in it many other instances, it profits me nothing, 1 Cor. 13. 3.  
The Righteous man then, is one who has an eye to all God's Laws, and whensoever he transgresses any, doth not allow himself in that breach, but rises again by Repentance. This is Righteousness in any Person. And without this, the Hopes in Death, which the Text mentions, will avail nothing. For many men are full of Hope, who have no just Cause for it; and, on the contrary, others are afraid to Die, who may justly meet Death with comfort. The melancholy of some, and the Sanguine Complexion of others, fill them with hopes and fears, which are not owing to the Reason of things, but only to their natural Tempers: So that to show any man a dying Saint, that has Cause to rejoice in Death, it is not enough that he have Peace of mind, but also that he have just ground for it too.  
And thus having shown who this righteous man is, to whom this Privilege belongs: I proceed now,  
2. To show what are his Hopes, that make Death a desirable thing to him, which to others is the King of Terrors.  
Now this Hope is of the favour and friendship of Almighty God, and of all those Blessings which may be expected from it. What those Blessings are, was not so well known in old times, when God led men on by more dark, and indefinite expectations of the Future Happiness. But when Christ came, he 
* 2 Tim. 1▪ 10.  brought Life and immortality to Light, and has told us plainly, that at their Deaths, all Righteous men shall be translated to the unspeakable and eternal Joys of Heaven. And these are so great, that no heart can wish for more. For the blessings of that Place are so large, as to fill all our Capacities; so pure, as not to have the least mixture of Sorrows; so constant, as to admit of no abatements, or intermissions. We shall always desire, and always be satisfied; and when we have enjoyed the most, we shall never be cloyed, nor wearied with it. We shall live in God's Presence, and share in his Likeness, and shine in his Glory, and have Fellowship with the Saviour of the World, and all the spotless Angels, and all the Glorified Saints and Godlike Persons, whose Society alone is enough to turn any Place into a Paradise. And all these we shall enjoy, without all fear of Misfortune, either theirs, or our own; without all danger of displeasing them, or fear of losing them; without seeing any thing, either to pity, or blame in them; or any damps of Friendship, and intermission of Affection. In sum, we shall never see any ill, nor suffer it; nor ever want any good thing, or, when we have it, fear to be deprived of it: But we shall be infinitely happy, and ever think ourselves so, and continue in that State for evermore.  
This is that Eternal Life, which God promises, and whereto Death now conveys all Righteous Persons. And since it is the way to our enjoyment of all this Bliss, it is no longer a Spoiler of our Joys, but a Step to them, and a thing to be desired by all Godly Souls. It is, indeed, like churlish Physic, very ungrateful in itself, tho' it may be most desirable in the effect. It brings a Dissolution of Nature, which strikes Horror, and that into the best men, who would desire not to Die, if they could come at the happiness of the other Life without dying. And this St. Paul testifies of himself, confessing, that as for the way of receiving the Heavenly house, i. e. the glorified Body, he had rather be found alive, and have it superinduced by a translation; than be stripped of this Body first by Death, and afterwards be clothed again. My wish, says he, is not to be unclothed, i. e. to put off this Body first, but to be clothed upon by having the other superinduced, that mortality may not so truly be put off, as swallowed up of Life, 2 Cor. 5. 1. 4. But it is most incomparably advantageous in the Event. Tho' the way be hard and rugged, yet 'tis short, and the Prize at the end is wonderfully Rich and Pleasant: So that every considerate man, who looks beyond Death, hath the greatest Reason to desire it. To them, as St. Paul says, it has quite lost its 
* 1 Cor. 15. 55.  Sting, and is become the truest Gain. Phil. 1. 21. All sense of what it takes away, is drowned in the boundless apprehension of what it gives, and Death is swallowed up in victory. 1 Cor. 15. 54. It confers on them all their hearts can desire, and therefore, if they rightly consider it, ought not to be a matter of their Fear: It takes them from a Dunghill to a Throne, and invests them in all the Glory and Riches of an everlasting Kingdom.  
I come now  
3. To apply this, to allay our Grief and Sorrow on the Death of Friends.  
I do not seek to suppress all Grief for a dying Friend; for that is an impossible Task. Friendship is a close thing, and lies near to our Hearts; so near, indeed, that a Friend is said, and that very justly, to be a Second self. And therefore to be insensible when a dear Friend is torn from us, is as impossible, as to have no sense when a Finger is rend off from our Hand, or our Heart is plucked out of our Bodies. Some Course Nature will have in spite of all Arguments, and no man can restrain it. Yea, and what is more, it is not fit he should do it, if he could. For some sorrowful concern is necessary to show we are sensible of our Loss, and to evidence our Affection for the Person that is gone: As the Jews, when Jesus wept for Lazarus, cried out Behold how he loved him. Jo. 11. 35. 36. The unconcernedness of the Living, seems a reflection upon the Dead, and argues they were not beloved while they lived, but that the World was weary of their Company, and even their pretended Friends very willing, if not glad, to be quit of them. And therefore it is reckoned as a Part of God's Judgement upon the Jews, that when they died, there should be no wailing for them. Ezek. 7. 11. But with this Grief for our own Loss in the departure of our Friends, we must at the same time show ourselves sensible who it is that has taken them, and that too for their own Gain, and that he still continues to us a thousand Blessings when he only calls back one. And therefore with Sorrow for them, we must be sure to join Submission to God; to resign up our Wills to his, and be not only outwardly silent, but inwardly renconciled to what he has done; and to be heartiful thankful, both for all the Kindnessess he showed our departed Friends, and for that vast Number of others he still continues to ourselves. These things will not be performed as they ought, when Grief grows strong. Whilst it keeps within due bounds, such as suit with the Apprehensions and Hope of Christians, it is what Natural Affection will force from us, and what Religion allows: But when it becomes ungovernable and boisterous in Degrees, or obstinate in Continuance, it is in itself an ill thing, an irresistible Temptation. So that when we do grieve, we must be careful to keep back from all excess, and to do it with moderation. And to temper our Grief, which needs a most watchful care to govern and allay it upon these occasions; among those many things that might be suggested, I shall only observe these two; viz. That, when our Friends are truly Religious,  
1. We have not the least pretence to be immoderate out of our Love to them, because it is incomparably their Gain. They are translated to a Place of Bliss, where they are infinitely joyful in their own minds, and from whence they would not be removed by any offers: So that we have no colour of Reason to be sad, but the highest Cause to congratulate upon their Accounts; as the Primitive Christians of old, and we still do, for the Death of Saints and Martyrs, the Memorials of whose Death we celebrate with Festivals, as the Day of their Birth to an immortal Life. If we have a true and wise Love for our Friends, we shall not only be willing, but glad above all that God should Love them too. And then we must needs be thankful when he shows his Love, and takes them to those Joys, which are the end of all their Hope, and beyond which they can never wish for any more.  
2. Nor have we any Reason to be immoderate in bemoaning our own Loss, because we shall go to the same Place, and meet again in time. Our own Loss, indeed, is the only thing that can trouble us, and when we do Grieve and Mourn, it is only in love to ourselves. But this is no cause at all to be intemperate, or obstinate in Grief; for it will all be made up again, if we will have a little Patience. They are gone to that Place, whither we all hope to come; so that if we can stay a while, we shall enjoy our Friends again. Their departure from the World, is but like men's taking of a Journey, not an utter Loss of Friends▪ but only an absence from them for a small space. And when once that is past, the next meeting shall be in so great, and lasting Joy, as shall infinitely make amends for it. For than our Friends shall be stripped of all Humane Frailties, and made absolute in all desirable Perfections, which will make them more deserving of our Love, and dearer to us; and that Love shall never cause Grief and Torment, as it doth now, by a second absence. As we shall be most happy in them, so shall we ever be secure of them; for then there will not be the least Fear, because not the least danger or possibility of parting any more.  
And thus I have done with the Explication of the Text, and shown both who the Righteous are, and what great and comfortable things, when Death comes, they have to hope for.  
But hitherto I have only laid down the Rule, and I have still another Work to do, which is, to set it off yet further, in a fair Pattern and Example of it: I mean the Excellent Noble Person now Deceased, the Character of whose Virtues will give Life to all that I have said, and be the best, and most useful thing in all my Sermon. She was a great Instance of many Virtues, nay, of some, which are almost lost in Practice, which seem to reign scarce any were but upon men's Tongues, as if they were impracticable Rules, that were never intended to be followed and performed, but only to be praised and talked of. And I cannot do more right to those neglected Graces, than to show the remiss and slothful World they are more than Words, and are real live things, made visible to all in the excellency of her Practice.  
God had endowed her with an excellent Nature, which prevented many of the great Self-denials in Religion, and made it to her a tolerably easy thing. This is an ivaluable Blessing God bestows on some special Favourites, and it was eminent in her. To be universally kind and pleasing, was one of the most Natural things in her Complexion, which made a Religion of Love be embraced without opposition. And together with this kindness of Nature, he had blessed her with much humbleness of Mind, and with a just seriousness and composure of Spirit, which made her apt for Devotion and wise Counsels, and easy to receive, and retain any good Impressions, which should be stamped upon her.  
Together with this Goodness of Nature, as another Testimony of his singular Grace and Favour, he had provided for her an excellently Virtuous, Wise, and careful Mother; who begun early to cultivate this rich Soil, and plant the Seeds of Virtue in it, ere the Vices of the World could make their Attempts upon her. She taught her Goodness by plain Rules, and showed it to the Life in an admirable and a brave Example. And her Pattern this prepared Soul knew so well how to prise, that she had chosen it for her own imitation▪ resolving to govern herself by her Mother's Rules, and to fix her eye upon her Noble Virtues, and, as near as she could, to transcribe them in her own Practice. And this shows a generous liking of Goodness, and promises a great Progress in it, when any Persons aim, so far as they are able, to equal the most accomplished Saints, and to live up to the Rules of the best Examples.  
And to complete all, when she was deprived of this Blessing, his watchful Care provided a Husband for her, who to the intimacy of his Relation to her as a Wife, the top of worldly Friendships, coveted to add a Nobler Friendship still, that bottomed upon likeness of Souls and virtuous Grounds, and was designed to serve the most excellent Purposes of Religion, in making each other Better and Wiser, which is the Perfection of the Wisest, and most exalted Friendships, betwixt the most endeared Persons.  
Thus liberally had God endowed this select Soul with Inclinations to Virtue and Goodness, and with Opportunities to ripen and improve them. And had he spared her a longer Life, wherein to employ the Talents he had given, we may justly expect the Increase would have been in a greater Measure and Proportion. But though her Race was quickly done (for she died in the twenty third year of her Age) yet she had run much in a little time: in her green Years she had attained a Maturity in Goodness, and was grown ripe in the true Ends and Art of Living; and the effect of these Advantages was visible in an exemplary, and truly Christian Conversation. To recount all her Virtues, is more than I can pretend to do; they were known only to God, who will reveal them at last to all the World; but for the imitation of those she has left behind her, I shall observe these following.  
Her Piety was great towards Almighty God. She knew what Honour and Homage we all owe to him, and was careful to lay out herself upon it. She would converse with him duly in her Closet-retirements; and constantly make one to do him Service in the Public Assemblies, not allowing herself to neglect the Service of God for little Reasons and Inconveniencies, which can keep none back, but those who have too little Zeal for God, and too much slothfulness or delicacy of Spirit. And, which showed how sincerely she resorted thither, not at all to set off herself, but purely for Pious Ends, at Church she did affect plainness of Dress, and would not seek there to recommend herself to others, no not in the most public Places, by elaborate Attire and outward adorning; but only to God by the Devotion of her Mind, and the Ornament of an humble and a meek Spirit, (things wherein she is was hardly be equalled), which in the sight of God, as St. 
* 1 Pet 3. 34.  Peter says, are of great Price. She was in a constant Preparation, as all good Souls are, for the Holy Sacrament, and careful to embrace all Opportunities of joining in it: For since I had the Happiness to observe her, she never miss a Communion, but was always one in that highest Instance of Devotion, to offer up the Sacrifice of a Devout Heart, and thankfully acknowledge the Stupendious Love of God, and of our Dearest Saviour to Mankind. Such was the Devotion of this Fair Saint towards Almighty God, which did not come upon her by Fits, but was a settled Habit, that dwelled upon her Spirit. And in all this she showed an inward, and hearty Piety, as one that plainly sought to be Good between herself, and him that sees in secret. For her Religion did not seek to show itself in an affected Outside, in studied Appearances, in Talk and Noise; but in all the Modesty, Silence, and Gravity, of an hearty and unaffected Godliness. She was Good after the best Fashion, in an inward Religion: Which, tho' it showed itself in such Reverend and Composed Mien, as naturally flowed from, and testified a Spirit greatly affected; yet did not appear in any thing, which could seem chosen for Show or Ostentation.  
And as she was thus careful to address to God, so, which is a more real Instance of a governing Piety, could she quietly resign herself to his Will in the hardest Providences, and trust him with any thing. The best Remedy in Afflictions, as she said, was Prayer to God: And when she was tried with them, she found the Effect of it, in an humble, calm, and uncontesting Resignation. And to show the firm and settled confidence she had fixed in his Care; when she was surprised with Death, the Sweet Babe she was to leave behind her, she looked on as so secure in the Custody of Almighty God, and the Care of her Dear Husband, that the Thoughts of it did not in the least trouble her.  
As to the Government of herself, and those Virtues which were chiefly due to her own Person; she was endowed with an even Temper, and the Command of her own Inclinations, and Contempt of the World, with Humility, Sincerity, and other Virtues, and was a very great Example in them.  
She was singularly happy in an even Temper, not violently transported, but only duly affected whatever happened. No Prosperous Accidents could overjoy, nor cross Events unmeasurably disturb her. Yea, even in her Bodily Pains she would keep her evenness, and show nothing of a disturbed Spirit, wherein Religion, and the constant Goodness of her Inclination had lost the Reins; but was wont even then to be pleased with all that was done about her, and to be careful in what she did or said herself to please all.  
She had a strange Government of her own Desires and Inclinations, and could command and restrain them almost in any thing. This is a notable Instance of Religion, the greatest part and hardship whereof lies in denying of ourselves, as Sin doth in Self-pleasing. And this the Wisest, and Best Men have still thought, as the most difficult, so the Bravest, and most Noble Undertaking. It is not so illustrious a Point of Mastery, and part of Valour in any man to conquer another, as to conquer his own Passion; and he shows a greater height of Resolution and Bravery that overcomes himself, than he who subdues a City. And she was a Noble Instance of this Mastery. Indeed, I think, she could deny herself what she pleased, and cross any Inclination for a good end, and not be troubled at it. She was devested of herself, and was another's Good, which is the Character of a Good Person; ready to do any thing for another's, and to forgo any thing that made for her own satisfaction.  
She had a Generous contempt of the World, and tho' she had ever been in the midst of all that could make her value, and be in Love with it, and was in the Spring of her Years, which is an Age most subject to admire it: Yet she kept it still without her, and lived above it. She sprung from an Illustrious, Noble Stock; but she was not forward to make known the Honour of her Blood, nor seemed to prise herself upon it. She showed the true Spirit of Nobility; which is, when all others, to keep up Degrees and good Order in the World, do Respect and Honour Titles, that they who wear them overlook and despise them, and value themselves only upon what is their own, not what is derived from Ancestors. And as for all the Splendour, and Gratifications of the World; she seemed generally so indifferent in the pursuit, and so unaffected in the use of them, as plainly showed she sat loose from them. Had she lived always in the Eye of worldly Vanities, I think in some measure they would have taken off the mind, either of her, or of any other, from God and better things. But besides this, as for any other Effects, I doubt 'tis hard to find a Person, that might be safelier trusted with them. For as for their being otherwise a Snare, she was so indifferent, they could not much have tempted her. And having this contempt of the World, she could easily part with any of the Riches of it for Good and Wise Ends, but not for any others, for she was so much above Show, and so inclined to solid Goodness, that her Generosity would not spend itself upon Vanity or Extravagance: But on any Charitable, or Good occasion, she had a Generous Soul, and would both readily, and Liberally contribute. That, indeed, was her heart's delight, and if she valued Money, whereof she showed a great Neglect, upon any account, it was for the opportunity and satisfaction of doing good with it.  
Humility was her beloved Grace, which she sought of God with earnestness, and which she had attained to Admiration. She had a strange Modesty in her Nature, which made her conceit meanly of herself, and rendered her very backward to believe any thing in her could deserve Praise, and almost afraid to receive it. She saw too much of emptiness in all those things that puff us up, to be Proud of any of them. She might have been exalted in her own Mind, by reflecting upon her High Birth, and her great advantages of Estate and Honour. But she had a just estimate of all, and did not think herself the better or more deserving because she had, nor others the worse because they wanted them. Nay, her great Virtues, which were Solid Goods, did not exalt her in her own Opinion. I think she strove to conceal them from herself: And as for any Ostentation of them abroad; she was so (I had almost said) over-modest, and extremely nice in that, that one shall not ordinarily see more care in others to show forth their Goodness, than was in her to hide it.  
Sincerity and an undissembling heart, were not only the Religion of her Choice, but the Virtue of her Nature. No Person need be more reserved in any thing, that should be kept a Secret; and none more true, and plainhearted in what she spoke. She knew not how to act double in any thing, and, indeed, she needed not, having no Thoughts or Ends to conceal and be ashamed of. For she was obliging, without all Designs, and used to harbour no Thoughts of any, but what were good; and pursue no Aims, but what were Honourable and Just: So that whenever she spoke, she might say the Truth, and had no great Temptation to disguise it.  
These are some of those Excellencies, which did adorn herself, and were due unto her own Person.  
And then as for her Carriage towards all the World besides, how truly Christian a Part did she act in that, in a constant kindness, candour, and entire easiness of Conversation. In all which, her Life was full of deserved Praise to herself, and very useful and instructive unto others, fit to direct the Lives, and excite the Imitation of all those, who had the opportunity to behold it.  
She was truly kind, and full of Charity and good Nature to all that conversed with her. Her singular Modesty was a great Restraint to her in takeing Acquaintance, and this, perhaps, may be misconstrued by some, who have not either the Skill, or Care to discern betwixt distrust of ones self, and neglect of others. But in reality she had both an humble, and a kind heart, prepared to oblige and please all with whom she had to do. She thought no Person was too mean for her to know, and every one she knew, or indeed saw, she was Naturally Courteous and Respective to. Affable, and easy of Access she was to all; and particularly to those, who had any thing to ask of her. And when she was to dispense a Charity, she had, as a Liberal, so a tender Hand, careful not only to supply the Necessity, but, what is a doubling of any Gift, to save the Modesty of the Receiver. For her Favours came so easily and freely from her, and she appeared to be so pleased with them herself, as would not only encourage, but invite a Beggar. She loved to see all Persons pleased, and so sparing was she of any thing that might trouble them, that tho' she would be compassionate, and bear a part in their Sorrows, yet her own should be to herself, and if she could help it, they should seldom bear any in hers. Her Desire was to be easy and obliging unto all, and her Study, but, indeed, she needed not to study it, to offend none. And this Goodness was a settled Temper, so firmly rooted in her, that neither outward occurrences, nor bodily indispositions, (which are apt to prevail on others, and must needs tempt her,) made her fretful, and uneasy to those about her; and I think it may be as truly said of her, as it can well be of any, that she was always in good Humour,  
She was a Person of extraordinary Candour, in construing all that others did, or said. Here, indeed, she excelled, and, I doubt, is rarely to he paralleled. She had the Wit to make Interpretations of all sorts, but her Goodness still determined them on the kind side. So that the Good needed not to fear her Censure, and, if they must fall under any, the Faulty had much Reason to desire it. Nay, so Christianly nice was her Charity in this point, that as she would not make Reflections on others Weaknesses, or say a severe thing herself; so, as has been several times observed, she could give no Approbation to it, when others did it. If she did not become their Advocate, in suggesting something in their excuse; she used to rebuke their Accusers by her Silence, or her Countenance. For so truly did she make her Neighbours Concern her own, that she could not ordinarily lend so much as a Smile, to any Ridiculous, or smart thing, which was said against them.  
Thus candid was she in judging, or speaking of what was done, or said by others; and this she was, where one is tempted to be most suspicious, viz. in things which related to herself. For even in them, she could suspect no hurt, because she meant none. She had such a Native Simplicity, and Generous Goodness in her own Breast, that she could not without great Proof, and hardly then too, suspect otherwise of any other Person. Scarce any where shall one find a Nature more slow to take things ill, and resent Unkindnesses; or that has so great a Memory as hers in other things, and yet is so very apt, as she was, to forget them.  
She was a very easy Person in all Converse, not given, as I noted, to trouble any with her own Praise, or the Dispraise of others, and evidencing an esteem of every Person but herself. She was too Generous, and good Natured, to scorn any for their Meanness; or to deride them for their Folly, and Impertinence. Wheresoever she went, her custom was to take all things kindly, finding no faults, and much less speaking of them. She was a very desirable Person to be concerned with, either in conferring, or receiving kindnesses: For when others did any thing for her, she thought it was too much; but what she could do for them, she overlooked as if she had done nothing. She expected so little to herself, that she was never apt to take exceptions; and was so humble, innocent, and obliging, that she was in little danger of doing any thing for others to except against. Scarce any thing could anger her, that was done to her, and much less would any thing anger others, that passed from her. So that every one was sure to be at ease, and have nothing to provoke them, whilst they kept her Company.  
She spoke not much, but was of few words; a great Art of keeping Innocence, (especially in an Age that abounds in Censure) under all the Temptations to Discourse, and of having little to Repent of. This, perhaps, some may think, whatever it be of their Virtue and Wisdom, is no Commendation of the Wit and Parts of any Person. But every Wise Man knows, that Understanding consists in Wise and Pertinent, and not in much talking. God had given her a solid Reason, and when she did speak, it was truly Pertinent, and worth the hearing. And during all the time I have had the Happiness to observe her, I do not remember what frivolous, or fond thing I have heard come from her. She could not allow herself to say ill of any, nor could lend a Word, or spare, as I said, so much as a Smile in approbation when others did; and therefore whensoever the Faults and Blemishes of Persons was the Topick of Discourse, it was little she had to speak. But tho' her Discourse was the less upon that account, yet I am sure the Example is good, and it was the more innocent and profitable, which makes an abundant amends for it.  
In a word, She was a truly excellent, and amiable Person; plentifully endowed with those Qualities that may gain Love, and with those Virtues which deserve Imitation. And she had this Testimony of her Worth, which shows not only the reality, but the greatness of it; she was not, as too many others are, liked best at first, but still grew higher in esteem, as she was longer and better known. For she had such a Stock of true and solid Goodness, as could not be discovered (especially through the Veil her Modesty cast before it) till Time drew it out, and still administered matter to those that beheld her, for a new and growing Affection. She envied no Persons Condition, but was hugely pleased and contented in her own. She was a sincere Christian, an Ornament to her Husband, (by whom she was dearly Beloved, and in her Memory highly Honoured, as she most justly deserved it), and an extraordinary Blessing to this Family, who do resignedly submit to it as to what God has ordered, but think the Loss of such a Treasure so great, that in this World they dare not hope to meet with any thing that can repair it.  
And what is still the Crown and Glory of all these Perfections, amidst all this, she was, as I hinted, so free from Ostentation, and so opposite to any thing that looked like seeking Praise, as nothing in this World ordinarily can be more. She was a Person, as of a very great, so, what makes it greater still, of a very concealed Goodness. She used Arts to hide her Virtues, and would hardly be brought to acknowledge any thing to her just Praise, and did as truly take pains to avoid the Opinion of being Exeellent in any Endowments, as others do to obtain it. So that she was like the Sun wrapped up in a Cloud, her Rays were cast all inward, and, so far as she could order it, shone only to herself, and to Almighty God. She would, it seems, as far as she was able, be good altogether for his Sake, and seek no worldly Advantage by it: But at the same time she aspried to be great in Goodness, she shunned the Reputation of being thought so.  
Such were the Virtues, and so considerable were the Attainments of this Pious Soul in Righteousness. And being so well stored in Goodness, it may well be expected she should have her share in Comforts, and, as the Text says, have Hope in her Death. And so, indeed, it was. Her Death was very sudden, suspected by none, nor in all appearance by herself, till she awaked in the Jaws of it, and said she was a Dying. This was very short warning. But tho' it may be sudden, it is never too soon to a Good Christian. A well-spent Life is such a Preparation, that altho' it comes the most unexpected, it can never take them unprovided, but they may meet it upon any intimation. But this suddenness, tho' it could not endanger the safety, yet was it a mighty Trial of the clear Conscience, and firm Hopes of this excellent Person. If any thing had stuck upon her, or she had been conscious of any thing to affright her; then, no doubt, had been the Time to fear, when the Judge had sent the Summons, and called her in to come before him. But, whether from the Applause of a clear Conscience, which, having been hitherto a Faithful Guide, proved now a Comfort to her; or whether from the intimation of some good Angel, that was come to carry off his Charge (if Angels do then begin a Correspondence, and give kind intimations when a Soul is just leaving the Body, and going to Converse and be Fellow-Citizen with themselves): From which soever of these Causes, I say, it happened, thus it was, this Happy Soul in that Suprize, had a clear, cheerful Confidence, and a foretaste of that Joy and Peace God was preparing for her.  
Tho' she knew she was going in haste, she could take time, and spend some of those few minutes she had still remaining, to declare her mind in some Things which she would have ordered. And observing her Nurse that was attending her, to fall a weeping, with an even and undisturbed Mind she rebuked her, and bid her not to weep for her, for she was going to be Happy, and to be an Angel in Heaven.  
And thus I have endeavoured to give some Account of this Excellent Person, and to lay out some of those Virtues in her, which may bring Honour to God, and the greatest Benefit to ourselves, by our Godly Imitation of them. This, tho' to some who knew her not, or who looked not near or long enough upon her to discover a Goodness so silent and secret, it may seem an ample; yet to those who knew her best, perhaps will appear an imperfect Draught. But I pretend not to give a perfect Description of her. She was of such a modest Goodness, and her Virtues so industriously concealed, that I believe a just account of them is only known to God, and must then only be laid out at large to all the World, when he comes to reward openly what was done in secret. I have only designed to draw this Fair Saint in such Virtues, as I desire from her Copy to make live things, and to translate into others Practice. For nothing is more instructing to the World, and more like to bring Virtue into Practice, than to draw it out in the Lives and Acts of Pious Persons. This shows men what they are to do in Religion, and withal that it is a feasible thing; and therein both directs, and excites to Imitation. I am sure there is much to be learned in such a Pattern as this is, and as the World has great need, so I hope it will reap some Profit by such Examples.  
What further now remains for us, but to preserve the Memory of her Great Virtues always fresh in our Minds, and express the Copy of them in our Practice? For this is the best way of remembering the Dead, which brings in most Advantage to ourselves, and most Honour to them, to imitate what was good in them; when the Piety, and Humility, and Justice, and Charity, and other Virtues of the Dead, are kept alive, and shown in the Conversation of the living. It is only these Virtues which carried those who are gone, and which can carry us too in the end to a joyful Resurrection. Whereto in thy due Time, do thou, O! Blessed God, in thine abundant Goodness bring us all for Christ his sake. Amen.  
FINIS.