A SERMON Preached at the FUNERAL OF Mrs. Ann Margetson, A Young LADY, under the Age of Fourteen Years.  
IN THE Church of Clerkenwell: ON Sunday, November the 12th. 1693.  
By RALPH LAMBERT, Chaplain to the Right Honourable, the Earl of Montague, and His Lady, Her Grace, the Duchess of Albemarle; and Rector of Grindon in Staffordshire.  
LONDON: Printed for Peter Buck at the Sign of the Temple, near the Inner-Temple-Gate in Fleetstreet, 1693.   

Imprimatur,  
November 24. 1693. Guil. Lancaster.   

TO THE HONOURABLE ALICE MARGETSON.  
Madam,  
IT is not without good reason, that I presume to address this Sermon to Your Ladyship, though it be the meanest Offering that could be made, to the Memory of your deceased Daughter. All that is exhortatory in it, will more nearly concern your Ladyship than it can any other: Though I confess, 'tis an unwarrantable Assurance to imagine, That your Ladyship should regard such weak Arguments from me; who, in so many Occurrences of your Life, have been the highest Instance and Argument of Religious Patience.  
You know, Madam, that this Discourse was made public first in the Pulpit, and now in the Press; by their Solicitation; whom I could neither with good Manners, nor good Nature deny; though I am sensible how much it will expose me. It is true, this is but a miserable Excuse for Printing so poor a Trifle; yet I am confident, that your Ladyship (to whom I think myself chief accountable in this Case) will allow it for reasonable. I am afraid it will as little prevail with my Reader for a favourable Reception, to tell him that it was begun, and finished in a piece of a Night: and at a Time, when my thoughts were under very great Disadvantages, from a most sensible Concern, for the Loss of so good and valuable a Friend. As your Ladyship knows the Truth, so I doubt not, you will grant the Equity of this Apology, and allow it as an Extenuation of its Defects; for others, I expect to be told that the hasty Birth should as hastily have expired, and died immediately after the Deliverance. Perhaps, I am much of the same Opinion myself; but since I am much of the same Opinion myself; but since I am assured by some, and those no incompetent Judges, that the Sermon may be tolerable in the Perusal, and possibly, not wholly unprofitable; I choose rather to believe them implicitly, and so to comply with the Desires of several, who would have it Public, than to be guilty of perhaps, a less pardonable Vanity; that I should fancy it worth any one's while, but especially, some of good Sense, and much Honour, to Flatter me.  
The Subject I am sure, needs no Defence for being Published; and had it met with one capable of doing it Justice in the Enlargement, ought not in Reason or Charity, to be Suppressed. As it is, I hope it may be Useful to some of Your Excellent Daughters, Young Relations, (Your Surviving Daughter particularly) who may be won to a constant Perseverance in the Ways of Religion and Virtue, by having so Fresh, and so Extraordinary an Example in their own Family.  
I can hardly fear so ill an Effect from this, as that of making Your Ladyship's Wound Bleed anew: For as it gives but a very imperfect Idea of Your unspeakable Loss, so I think it carries with it a little of the Weapon-salve Virtue, and if it Wound, it may Heal too. At least it should give Your Ladyship some Comfort to remember, That You have given to the Choir of Heaven, an Eminent, Glorious Saint, and to Earth, one of its most perfect Patterns: And that, under the Age of Fourteen Years, and in the midst of all the Temptations of a very Vain, and Deceitful World.  
So sublime a Theme, thus meanly handled, will very much need Your Ladyship's Pardon, and it will I hope, be some Plea for it, that I was not a wilful Offender: However, it is some Satisfaction ●o me, thus to own the great Obligations that I have to Your Ladyship's Family, under whose Patronage I first entered upon the Duties of my Function; and to whom, I shall think myself Happy to be any way Serviceable: And if my Capacities must be always Limited, nothing shall set Bounds to the heartiest Wishes, and most fervent Prayers, of theirs, and  
Your Ladyship's Most Humble and Obedient Servant, R. LAMBERT.   
EZEKIEL XXIV. 15, 16. 
Also the word of the Lord came unto me, saying,  
Son of man, behold, I take away from thee the desire of thine eyes with a stroke: yet neither shalt thou mourn nor weep, neither shall thy tears run down.  
IF ever it were necessary to stay the violence of humane Passions, and stop a flood of Tears, which otherwise cannot but flow from the impression of a stroke so sudden, and heavy as the loss of the Lady, who now lies here before us.  
If to be unexpectedly robbed of the desire of our Eyes, one whom every Soul which knew, did love most passionately, does need all the arts of persuasion, to furnish us with Submission and Patience. In a word,  
If the taking away one of the most perfect works of the God of Nature, at a time, when God and Nature had made her the most delightful and desirable, does extort all the powers of pious eloquence, to move us to resignation; Then, I presume, I have pitched upon a Subject, which must on this sad occasion, be more pertinent, and seasonable, than any other.  
To all that knew her, I am sure it must be so; to those who did not, I am confident, that feeble, disproportioned Character, which even in this hurry, and distraction of thoughts, I shall endeavour to give of her virtues, will make them judge it proper, convenient and reasonable.  
We have lost the desire of our eyes, by a fatal, surprising stroke of providence: but since an alwise Providence has given it, we must neither mourn, nor weep, nor must our tears run down,  
To discourse in some method on these words, I shall endeavour these three things,  

I. First, To give you the full scope, meaning, and intention of them.  
II. I shall show in general, that though the desire of our eyes, all that our souls pant and languish after, be taken away by a stroke of divine Justice, yet it is our duty not to repine or grieve immoderately,  
III. I shall, in the third and last place, by a particular application to the subject before us, show, what violent temptations we have to unbounded sorrow, if the spirit of God had not by this caution forbidden us to lament or mourn, or that our tears should run down. And first,   
1. For the due explaining of the words, it is necessary to have recourse to the occasion of them. Which was this:  
The Prophet Ezekiel had it in charge, to denounce God's just and terrible judgements against the stiffnecked, rebellious Jews: whom he warns of their approaching vengeance, by many significant, but mysterious symbols: and 'tis probable, that they persisting impenitent, the pious Prophet was tired out with making so many and so fruitless addresses to them: and therefore might with some reluctance, continue the task of ineffectual preaching, which God had laid upon him; and perhaps like Ionas, did fear, rather the people's fury against himself, than that a Merciful God, would perfect the judgements which he was to declare against them; and as it should seem, he was touched with an unwarrantable compassion, towards his obstinate, and utterly rejected Countrymen.  
Now it pleased God to bring him to a perfect, and obedient sense of his duty, by inflicting a sudden and severe judgement upon him; to make him perservere in a ready exercise of his prophetic office. His Wife, the desire of his eyes, is taken away by a stroke; and to make it at once a Judgement, and a Prophecy, he is neither to mourn nor weep, nor give any other instance of sorrow. So that the primary sense, seems to be this. Because, O son of Man, you have an irrational, and groundless compassion for your degenerate Countrymen, therefore the word of the Lord comes unto you saying; I will punish you for endeavouring to spare those, whom I have destined to destruction. I will take away the Wife of your bosom, the beloved of your soul, with a stroke; with a sudden and unexpected execution; and as I do to her, so I determine to do to the stiffnecked Jews; but neither for her nor for them, shall you weep or mourn, or shall your tears run down. This I take to be the first and literal intention of the Words.  
But because it is usual with the spirit of God, besides the literal and immediate sense which the words of a Prophecy import, to contain under them a mystical, or a moral sense, relating either to the coming of Christ, or to some religious duty thereby enjoined us to be performed: I shall venture to give you one instance of the first, and then show, that the words of my text are a plain evidence of the latter.  
That besides the direct sense, and first intention of a prophecy, it does sometimes include a Mystical sense, more agreeable to its natural import than the other: I shall produce that celebrated Prophecy of Isa. 7.14. Behold a virgin shall conceive, etc. The Occasion of this Prophecy was King Ahaz's dread of the Kings of Syria and Israel, and distrusting of God for his deliverance from them. But the Prophet gives him a sign of God's intentions to deliver him: viz. A virgin shall conceive, etc. Now 'tis plain, the Words must in their immediate sense, refer to something which should come to pass very shortly; otherwise, how could they be on assurance to Ahaz of a speedy deliverance? It could not import him, that the Messiah should be born of a Virgin about 700 years after: but allowing the first intended sense to be, that before one who is now a Virgin, can conceive and bear a son, and that son know how to refuse the evil, and choose the good, God will deliver Ahaz. Then it evidently carries along with it, a Mystical, prophetic sense, of the Messiah to be born of a Virgin, so long time afterwards.  
And thus, the Words of my Text, tho' they primarily import, that the Prophet should lose his Wife, and the Jews suffer vengeance for their sins; and that by reason of his error, and their obstinacy, he was to lament for neither. They do besides this, contain a most profitable and necessary Injunction, and which is the genuine meaning of them, no less than the other; and that is, that though it please God to take away the Desire of our Eyes, all that is most dear and valuable to us upon Earth, and that with a Stroke, with a suprizing, unusual Effect of his Wise Providence, yet we must neither mourn, nor weep, neither must our Tears run down. That is, we must not suffer ourselves to be so carried away by the Impetuousness of our Passions, or the Resentment of our Loss, as to murmur or repine against the Almighty; forget his Dominion and Sovereignty over us; find fault with the Dispensations of his Providence, or do any thing else, which may give the least cause of Suspicion, that we do not entirely resign ourselves to every Effect of his infinite Wisdom and Power. And thus I have endeavoured to give you the full Importance and Meaning of the Words.  
II. I come now in the Second Place, to show you the Reasonableness of the Duty; that though the Desire of our Eyes, all that our Souls Pant, and Languish after, be taken away by a Stroke of Divine Providence, yet it is our indespensible Duty (in general) not to repine or grieve Immoderately.  
And here, I might Proceed to show, upon what Foundation, this entire Subjection to the Will of Heaven, does depend: That when we Consider the unlimited Power and Dominion, which the Almighty has over us, and every thing to us belonging, as he is our Creator and Governor, our Redeemer and Preserver; as he is the Sovereign Disposer of all the Works of his own Creation, we ought never to be uneasy, however insupportable we may fancy any Evil that befalls us. Had it pleased him to make our whole Life on Earth, one unallayed Composition of all that we call bitter and tormenting; yet when we reflect, that it is the Work of the Omnipotent, and that he is accountable to none for his Actions; this one Consideration should suppress and stifle all the Clamours, that peevish humane Nature is apt in these Extremities, to send forth against its Maker. But we should never repine, even at such a continued Scene of Sufferings, if we remember, that upon these Terms, Heaven is a great and happy Purchase, and to be one Moment there, is more than sufficient Recompense for whole Ages of Misery. Where then is the least shadow for immoderate Grief or Murmuring, if never ending Ages of infinite Bliss, be the Assurance, and Reward of what is not comparatively one Moment of Pain▪  
I might likewise here argue from the Wisdom of God in the governing of the World, What an Absurdity it were to give Vent to any of our unruly and unmannerly Passions, and suffer them to reproach God for the Effects of his Providence▪ who not only once by his Word made all things, but in the Psalmist's Phrase, has made them continually, i. e. Were his wise Influence one Moment withdrawn, the World with all things in it, would immediately cease to be: And since we are assured, that his Wisdom is exerted in governing every particular Event and Action here below, it were the most irrational Madness in mortal Man, to control the Wisdom of his Maker, and charge the Author of his Being and Preservation, foolishly.  
I might deduce from every Attribute of God, most certain and infallible Arguments, for an absolute Submission to his holy Will and Pleasure; and show from each of them, that no Evil, how intolerable soever we think it, can at all justify the rude, daring Out-cries of any Tongue or Heart against him, since he is Righteous in all his Ways, and Holy in all his Works: And that if we had only what we deserve at his Hands, to us belongs nothing but Shame and Confusion of Face for ever. But I shall not insist on these plain, and  Reasonings from the Consideration of God and his Attributes.  
Nor shall I spend your Time, in exposing the Vanity and Emptiness of those things, by the loss of which we are pleased too often to make ourselves Miserable; such as the Riches, Honours, and Preferments of this World, the Pleasures of Sense, and infinite other transitory Enjoyments, which we by lusting after them, do make the Desire of our Eyes, and busy the Faculties of our Souls: It were easy from the very nature of these unsatisfying, empty things, to show, that it were the extremest Folly, for the loss of them, to Weep, or Mourn, or suffer our Tears to run down: But I choose rather as more pertinent to my Text, and suitable to this melancholy Occasion, to inquire how far an immoderate Grief is justifiable, for the irreparable loss of a Dear Friend, one that is truly the Desire of our Eyes, and the Joy of our Hearts, the Partner of all our Enjoyments, and of all our Afflictions, one endued with all the engaging good Qualities we would wish for, to settle our highest Affections upon: (In a Word) one by the loss of whom, we may justly say, we have lost the better, and dearer part of ourselves. If a grief without bounds for such a one as I here describe, be utterly inexcusable, then certainly it is so for any one, that we can suppose to die, and ourselves to be sufferers by their deaths. If we may be allowed to afflict and torment ourselves for any, it must be for those, who leave the world, and their friends destitute of those extraordinary accomplishments which they owned and made all others sensible of.  
But alas, if we indeed fancy that our departed friends were owners of those excellent endowments which made them admired, and desirable in the eyes of men: I mean such men as are proper judges of what is excellent and what not; will we not allow the searcher of all hearts to distinguish those qualities as well as we? Or shall we dare to repine, because he has chosen what is fittest for himself? If God has endowed them with such graces as make them quickly ripe, and early prepared for Heaven; shall we envy him the fruits of his own infinite bounty? and murmur because he receives the interest and improvements of his own talents? This were, besides the Presumption, one of the most unreasonable, and unjust quarrels against Heaven, that aspiring man could think of to forfeit the protection of Almighty God, and ruin himself and his hopes withal.  
Shall we arrogantly expostulate with God, because he has taken out of this vale of sin and misery, one that himself had qualified to add to the number of the Heavenly Choir, and to sing everlasting Hallelujahs before the Throne of Infinite Purity? I suppose, if the question were fairly stated to every immoderate Mourner, whether they grieve, because the friend they have lost is more happy, than 'tis possible he or she could be upon Earth; I think none would venture to talk so inconsistently of Friendship itself, as to answer in the affirmative: But would (if they have any sense of the joys of another Life) readily own, that their sorrow proceeds from some other motive; and they durst not reflect so unthankfully on Heaven, nor wish so injuriously to their Friend. So that they can own no real spring of immoderate grief, to come from any change that has happened to the person, they so dearly loved. It must therefore flow from the alteration, that is come to themselves; that they have lost somewhat which possibly might have made them more happy, and their life more comfortable; and this is the most usual and truest original of all our grief; but let it not be called a grief for a departed friend, but an indecent fondness of surviving self: It all undoubtedly proceeds from the consideration of our own particular happiness, and can be ascribed to no other, than the worst of all passions, that of self-love. We love ourselves so wonderfully well, that we cannot be satisfied, our friend should gain, even infinite happiness, by our loss. This, and no other is the genuine interpretation of all violent sorrow, where we suppose the deceased person, happy: And how far this is lamenting for a friend and not indulging a most inexcusable passion, let who will judge: I know, where the stream of sorrow runs with a full current, 'tis in vain to oppose Counsel, whilst the Floodgates are open: Passions are deaf to all manner of arguments, and not in this only, but in every other strong inordinate emotion of the Soul, one may as little expect to compose it, while the paroxysm lasts, as to silence and calm a tempestuous Sea with Syllogisms. But let it have leisure to recollect, to consider when the hurry and disorder is over, and it cannot but assent to the truth of this self-evident Assertion, That whoever believes his friend infinitely happy, by a change of Earth for Heaven, must own all indecent grief to be the effect of his own loss and resentment; and not at all of the others glory.  
Indeed, if one to whom I was bound by any tye of Relation or Friendship had closed an impious Life (as is most usual) with a wicked and despairing death; then I have too just reason to mourn for the deceased, especially if I have been instrumental, or accessary to the course of his impieties: I may then perhaps fond hope to quench his flames by a Flood of Tears; but sure they would be much better spent in washing away the guilt of our own sins, and not in striving to revoke the fixed unalterable Decrees of Heaven.  
Now for those who are under no such apprehensions, about the state of the persons Soul, whom they loved; but have good and sufficient grounds to reckon, upon its Eternal bliss; I must confess, I know not by what name to call their unaccountable trouble; they cannot surely grieve, that their friend has obtained that Crown of Glory which it was his whole Study and business to press forward to; a Crown so infinitely more glorious, than all the varnished greatness of this life, that it bears not the least conceivable proportion to it. A Crown, of which this deceased young Lady had an anticipating Vision in her sickness, & such lively apprehensions in her health, That by patiented continuing in well doing, she made it evident, That she sought only for glory, honour and immortality, and has now, (I doubt not) obtained Eternal Life.  
I could easily enlarge on this second head of discourse, but designing it rather as an introduction to what follows, and to show what grounds we have to obey the Prophet's injunction, not to weep, nor, mourn, tho' we have lost the desire of our Eyes: And because I knew this a most seasonable Topick, when so many of this young Lady's Friends and Relations are present; I cannot in Justice to a most devout young Virgin, and (I had almost said) in charity to all that hear me, forbear my weak endeavours, to make the subject I have insisted on, pertinent and useful, upon her account to Strangers.  
3. And therefore I shall in the third and last place, by a particular application to the subject before us, show what strong and violent temptations we have, to unbounded sorrow, if the word of the Lord, had not come unto us also, and said, that we should neither weep, nor mourn, neither should our Tears run down.  
The departed Virgin Saint, the elevated subject of this sad solemnity, had not attained to the age of fourteen Years, when the Angel of the Lord, found her fit for Heaven, and therefore took her away in the blooming of her perfections; to present her a spotless, glorious Soul to his, and her great Lord and Master. And perhaps it may raise admiration in some, to think, what can be said of a person so young, as to need a caution against immoderate Grief, before we dare to attempt her Character. I am not ignorant, how usual it is, on these occasions to talk Hyperbolically, and to magnify the smallest glimmerings of virtue, into the bulk of perfect, and solid habits; but I must reckon myself secure from any, danger of outstripping my Subject, as she was, from being equalled by any competitor of her Years, in the paths of Religion and Virtue: And I have just reason to fear falling far short, in the Description of her Divine Excellencies, which nothing, but being a constant witness of them, both in her health and sickness, could enable me to display tolerably, or give any real and just Idea of them.  
And to begin with those, which were, and which she thought, less properly her own. Nor should be mentioned at all, if her circumstances, as a Person of quality, and a stranger, did not seem to extort it.  
She had the advantage of an honourable parentage, both by her Father and Mother; by him, being the Grandehild of the late Lord Arch Bishop of Armagh, and Primate of all Ireland. And by her, Grandchild to the late Lord Viscount Charlemont of Ireland: Known best in his own Country, by the inseparable Epithet of The good Lord Charlemont. This noble descent she yet made much more so, by adding many New Virtues to those which are hereditary to both those Families. She was born to a very plentiful Fortune, which I name, merely to show, that she was never once exalted with the thoughts of it: And tho' it has been for some time, much at her own disposal, she desired to be distinguished by it, no other way than in taking very frequent opportunities of doing good; and I have never observed her more cheerful on any occasion, than when it came in her way, to give Alms to the poor.  
I shall add to these exterior qualities, that of a Body most perfectly beautiful; adorned with such and so many delightful Elegancies, that I think, very few of her Years could pretend to be her Paralles, and wholly without any of those Arts; and Affectations, by which too many fancy, they improve their Maker's Handiwork: and yet so far was she from assuming any thing to herself, upon the score of this or any other endowment, that I never heard any one mentioned as her Rival, to whom she did not hearty and readily submit. Nor was she ever pleased, (that I saw) with those insinuating impertinencies, so powerful upon many others, of being told, that she was extraordinary handsome. No, all her care and solicitude about her Body, was to make it a Temple fit for the reception of the Holy Ghost. But I dwell too long on these outward transient accomplishments, when so many internal excellencies deserve a more particular and suitable elargement, than I am able to give them.  
Her Wit was great and solid: Not subject to those flashes of Repartee and Raillery, which some young Ladies esteem to be the Abstract and sum of all ingenuity, and place their whole endeavours to gain a pert, canting Faculty, which when obtained, makes them despised and hated. But hers, was like that of her Saviour, and it was all laid out on that saving knowledge, how to grow in Wisdom, and Piety, and Favour with God and Man.  
To her God she never neglected her Duty; for besides frequent occasional devotions, she paid a constant Sacrifice of Prayers and Praises, Morning and Evening to her Creator: Nor was it a duty performed only for custom, and form's sake, as it is by many at her Years, not sensible of better motives; but having the advantages of an excellent example and education, Her devotions were all Solemn, Fervent and serious; and it was her constant custom, after having poured out her Soul to God in Prayer, to read the Psalms, and Lessons, and public Service of the day, before she addressed herself to any other employment.  
And then, she did not apply herself to those diversions, which are the usual entertainments of her Years, and her Fortune: But the greatest part of her time was divided, between her Book and her Needle. And 'tis strange to observe her choice of Authors, being not restrained from the use of any, except such as were sinful. But her Piety carried her principally to the perusal of Religious and moral Books, in these she busied herself with the greatest pleasure, and (I think) never had the patience to read through one Play, or Romance, tho' sufficiently qualified to apprehend all that was witty and pleasant, and to distinguish what was useful in them.  
This fixed and constant employment of her time, had begot in her such due and lively apprehensions of the Majesty of God, that she feared no evil in competition with that, of committing any wilful offence against him. She had almost a natural antipathy to Lying, nor was her passion against any person ever raised so high, as when she was provoked by being told a palpable and impudent Lye. She had an equal aversion to the Epidemical sin of railing, and could not with any patience endure to hear another secretly and injuriously traduced, and ever would extenuate what was hardly said, if the case could bear it. Such a veneration she had for the Name of God, that, as I never heard her speak with the least shadow of Irreverence, in matters relating to him, so I am sure, she never had the least reverence for any, whom she thought guilty of that presumption. And as it was scarce possible at her Years, to have a more perfect knowledge of the duty she owed to her Maker, so she was no less scrupulously careful in observing it, allowing for humane infirmities: And thus much for her Duty to God.  
As for her obedience to the Commands of the second Table; never any showed it more entirely, and more cheerfully: Since the Death of her Father (
* Major Margetson killed at the first Siege of Limerick.  who lost his Life not long ago in the defence of his Religion, and Country in Ireland) her Mother has reaped all the solid benefits of an unerring duty: And as she never disputed her Commands, so she showed her obedience to be the effect of choice, and not constraint; by following chief the Pious precedent of a discreet and virtuous Mother. And she exerted all the Powers of her Soul, to endeavour the comforting her afflicted Mother, when any trouble had befallen, or any Melancholy had seized her. So true a Comforter she was, that I doubt her Mother will think the injunction of my Text, a very hard saying, and who can bear it, not to burst into Floods of Tears, when the desire of her Eyes and the joy of her Soul is ravished from her.  
I shall not need to say that she never was immodest, even in a Thought; for I always looked upon her, as approaching very near a state of innocence: And as in her recollections on her death Bed, she said, she hoped, that she never had done an injury to any Body: So I am confident, she never admitted one thought unworthy of herself: In short; to speak of her general demeanour, let it suffice to say that she was Affable, Civil, and courteous to all: And that, as she never willingly disobliged the meanest; so she never was guilty of a complaisance to the greatest, which had the least appearance of criminal or sinful. And, having said thus much imperfectly, of the excellencies of her Life, I shall presume to detain you a little longer, in the most useful exemplary passages of her Death.  
Oh! That it were as easy to imitate her, as it is, never to forget her. We must all sooner or later pass the same way, how happy, if with the same innocence, and resignation of mind? She sickened just a week before she died; and tho', all that time she lay under the terrible pains, of a Fever and a Pleurisy; yet not one word escaped from her, to betray the least murmuring or impatience. But in her severest Agonies, had always that Heavenly Ejaculation; My God, my God look upon me: And when ever exhorted to resign herself, to the will of the Almighty, with what an astonishing cheerfulness did she do so, and would say, I put my trust in thee O Lord! Into thy Hands O God, I put myself.  
One thing very remarkable in her behaviour I cannot omit: Upon her first falling ill, she desired most ardently to receive the blessed Sacrament (the reason and end of its institution, with the requisite preparations, she understood clearly) but her Distemper growing violently upon her, gave me some cause to fear, that she might not have an intermission of pain, to receive it with all necessary devotion; Yet, how wonderfully did the mercy of God, concur with her most Holy desire? So far, that tho' in the midst of her torments, she never once groaned, during the time of the Celebration; but received it, with so much piety, such Heavenly aspirations of Soul; that sure, the Symbolical Body of our Saviour, was never a Guest to greater purity, or to more passionate Holy desires: And when it was finished, said, now I hope, my God will have mercy upon my Soul; before this I was under apprehensions and doubts of danger. Her thoughts were almost constantly fixed, in meditating on another life, and such an humble sense she had of her own merits, or fitness for that state, that, when she asked one who attended her, whether they thought she should be received into Heaven? And being answered yes: she had no reason to doubt, or to that purpose: Oh (she replied) I hope the Lord will be merciful, tho' I be unworthy.  
I frequently discoursed to her of her disposition to die, if God should ordain that sickness for her last: But O! What Heavenly, what religious, what more than human answers have I received from that departed Saint; that she saw nothing in the World that could tempt her to a wish to live in it; that she was happy being now to be delivered from a wicked and false World: (which was her own frequent expression) and so lively a Sense she had, of the joys of Heaven, that she told me, they had made her in love with dying, as a sure and sudden method of instating her in glory.  
It was wonderful to see how all along she suppressed her Groans and Sighs, lest she might give disturbance to those about her, who had too sad reason to be concerned, and till her last day, would beg of her nearest Relations, to keep out of her Chamber: being more sensibly afflicted with their sorrows, than her own sufferings.  
But when she found the time of her Death draw near (for she was sensible to the moment of her dissolution) with what eager embraces did she clasp, her almost dying Mother, and with her latest Breath, begged earnestly of her not to grieve, or be afflicted for her, for she was happy. And observing the Tears to fall from her Mother's Cheeks; she then, tho' in the Agonies of Death, yielded to a filial Sympathy, and it was the only time of her sickness that she let fall any Tears from her own Eyes, lest she should be thought repining, or impatient; but she quickly ceased, and repeats her dying requests to her belov'd Mother, that she would forbear to grieve for her, knowing, how infinitely through God's mercy, she should be a Gainer by the change. And here the Scene grows too sad and tragical for any description; I have not words, and if I had, I am not able, nor unconcerned enough to represent her in her last expiring Gasps. I can only say, she resigned her Soul, with a most pious cheerfulness, with an humble Holy confidence, into the Hands of a most faithful and merciful Mediator, who I doubt not, has embraced and blessed it, and enthroned it in one of the most glorious mansions of Heaven.  
Let us Christians endeavour to lead the innocent Holy Life of this extraordinary example; and then we shall not fail to die the Death of this Righteous Virgin, and that our last end, may be like hers. Which God grant, etc.  
The END.