THE CHARACTER Of the late D r. Samuel Annesley. By way of ELEGY: WITH A PREFACE.

Written by one of his Hearers.

LONDON: Printed for E. Whitlock, near Stationers-Hall, 1697.

Will: m Cole Coll: Regal: Cantab. A. M.

The PREFACE.

I Am very sensible, that the Characters of Cler­gy-Men are the most difficult in the World to be wrote, especially with Impartiality and Truth. Ministers are but Men as other Men are; and Men too, as St. Paul said of himself, of like Passions with our selves: A Truth so sisibly made out now, that 'tis not every Minister's Life will bear a Character.

Not that I design to make Reflections upon any, nor would I have my Character of one be a Satyr upon others; and when I say, that few or none does come up to the Character of Dr. Annesley, yet I wou'd not be understood as if there were not a great many left whose Eminent Piety and Vertue deserved very great Respect.

But if I must come to make Distinctions, I must say, That among the best, I neither know, nor have heard of one left, who can pretend to come up to his Degree in all Points; for I am not distinguishing between the Good and the Bad, but between the Good and the Best.

Every Good Minister does not make a Good Man; there are thwart Lines in the Dispositions of some of the best, which even Grace it self has not the power to ohliterate: And the Effects of this are most visible in [Page]their relative Conversation. Not but that I believe a Man may be of a very ill Temper, and yet be a true Christian: But I cou'd wish no such were to be Ministers. How Beautiful is it, to see a Man that is a Minister be also a Gentleman! For certainly Good Manners are the most consistent with Christianity of any thing in the World.

Vanity and Self-esteem on one hand, Covetousness and Self-seeking on the other, are Things so frequent among our Teachers, that never was there more need for us to hear the Word of God without Respect of Persons. If this has no other effect, 'twill certainly raise the Value of such Men who keep themselves un­spotted from the like.

And, I do confess, this has raised my Esteem for the Memory of Dr. ANNESLEY, whose ge­nerous Soul had nothing in him that was little or mean; of whom, I am sure, one Line in the Elegy is most particularly true:

He had no Priest-craft in him, nor no Pride.

He had a native genuine Honesty; any thing that was selfish or narrow was really below him, as a Gentle­man as well as Christian: His Temper was so good, and his Mind so calm, that the meanest Creature in the World might have the freest Conversation with him.

I think I need make no Apology for the Character, as it referrs to him, unless it be that I have said too little of him: what is weakly express'd is the Error of my Capacity, and may be mended by some body else; but I have diligently perus'd it, and cannot find that I have said any thing that is not really True of him. If I have taken any Poetick License, I de­sire to be understood in such a Latitude as such Ex­pressions ought to be taken in: I do no where mean, that Dr. Annesley was not a Man subject to Frailties, or Infirmities, or that he was arriv'd to a Perfection in this Life; but this I must say, He is the only Man of whom I could never hear one Refle­ction, either by Friend or Adversary, either while living, or since dead. He had no Enemies while alive, nor has no Scandal or Slander on him now Dead. His Vertues we knew, his Infirmities none knew but God and himself. Nor do I say any where, that there have not been, or are not Men of more sublime Parts and general Learning; tho' he was ex­traordinary in both. For in Learning, Mens Excellen­cies differ as their Genius leads; some are more Masters of Polite Language; some write siner than they speak; some excel in Polemical Divinity, some in Contro­versal; some are greater Linguists, some greater Lo­gicians; some have a soft perswasive Stile, some a [Page] sublime, and some a majestick: But these are not Clauses in which I distinguish him so much; he had a needful measure of all. Practical Divinity was his Business, and Cases of Conscience his Study. But 'tis the Zeal, the Candor, and Sincerity of his Mind; the Largeness of his Charity, the Greatness of his Soul, the Sweetness of his Temper, and the Vastness of his Designs to propagate the Kingdom and Interest of his Master. These are the Vertues which I magnifie to such a heighth in Dr. Annesley, and for which, I believe, no Man will think himself reflected on, by saying, He had no Equal.

Parties might differ in Judgment, and yet all a­greed, That he was a Good Man; whether Confor­mist or Nonconformist, All Lov'd him: and he comes under the woe of that Proverb, That all Men speak Well of him. He was one of those Good Men for which one wou'd even dare to die, when for a Righteous Man there is no such Obligation. I shall run on no further in his Character here, af­ter what has been said of him in the Pulpit; his Me­mory will live in the Minds of all that knew him, and those who did not, may read something of him in the following CHARACTER.

D. F.

⟨vied a Character of him in Wood's AH [...]: Ox: Vol: 2. p. 966 where it is said histrue Name was Aneley.⟩

The CHARACTER Of the late D r. Samuel Annesley. By way of ELEGY.

'TWas spoke from Heaven, the Best of Men must Die,
No Pattent's seal'd for Immortality:
Not God's own Favourites can shun the Stroke;
Even God himself cannot the Law revoke;
He can't, unless he should at once repeal
The Eternal Laws of Nature: Change his Will;
Declare his Works imperfect, Life restore
To all that's Dead, and be a God no more.
The World, whose Nature is to fade and die,
Must change, and take up Immortality;
And Time, which to Eternity rouls on,
Must change, and be Eternity begun.
All Things must ever live, or Man must die:
The Law's Supream, and Nature must obey.
How vain then, and impertinent is Grief,
Which nor to Dead nor Living gives Relief!
Sighs for departed Friends are senseless things,
Which them no Help, nor us no Comfort brings.
Tears on the Graves, where Breathless Bodies lie,
Our Ignorance, or Atheism, imply;
Ashes and Sack-cloth, Cries and renting Cloaths,
Our Folly more than our Affection shows:
For Grief is nothing, properly, but Rage,
And God himself's the Object we engage.
Fain we would live without his Negative;
Which when we can't accomplish, then we grieve:
The Passion's foolish, as it is profane;
The Action, as 'tis fruitless, and in vain.
But wou'd you like a Man, or Christian, grieve
When others die, be thankful you're alive;
Improve the Great Examples you look on,
And take their Deaths for VVarnings of your own:
For the best of Men cannot suspend their Fate;
The Good die early, and the Bad die late.
The Eternal Laws of Life are fix'd and fast,
And he who latest dies, yet dies at last.
Tho' early Vice does early Death presage,
Yet Piety can lengthen no Man's Age:
The Stroke's promiscuous, and there's no suspence
Beyond the stated Bounds of Providence;
For if distinguish'd Piety could save,
We had seen no Elegy, nor he no Grave.
Stay then, and spend a Thought upon his Herse,
Whose Name is more immortal than my Verse:
For tho' Death's Stroke, like an impetuous Flood,
Involves in common Fate the Just and Good,
And in one Grave there undistinguish'd lies
The Ashes of the Foolish and the VVise,
The Pious and Profane, the Mean, the Great,
And Grace it self can be no Bribe to Fate;
Yet Pious Works, like living Flowers, grow
To a kind of Immortality below;
And Characters of Worthies, like the Sun,
Reflect a Lustre, tho' themselves are gone:
Which do immortal Names to them create,
For us to Honour and to Imitate.
Then see what Characters to him belong;
The best that Pen e'er wrote, or Poet sung.
His Parents dedicated him, by Vow,
To serve the Church, and early taught him how.
As Hannah, when she for her Samuel pray'd,
The Welcome Loan with Thankfulness repay'd;
So they, foreseeing 'twou'd not be in vain,
Ask'd him of God, and vow'd him back again;
And he again as early did prepare
To list a willing Soldier in the Sacred War.
His Pious Course with Childhood he began,
And was his Maker's sooner than his own;
As if design'd by Instinct to be Great,
His Judgment seem'd to antidate his Wit;
His Soul out-grew the natural rate of Years,
And full-grown Wit at half-grown Youth appears;
Early the vigorous Combat he began,
And was an elder Christian than a Man.
The Sacred Study all his Thoughts confin'd;
A sign what secret Hand prepar'd his Mind:
The Heavenly Book he made his only School,
In Youth his Study, and in Age his Rule.
Thus he in blooming Years and Hopes began,
Happy, Belov'd, and Blest of God and Man;
Solid, yet Vigorous too, both Grave and Young,
A taking Aspect, and a charming Tongue,
With David's Courage, and Josiah's Youth,
All over Love, Sincerity, and Truth.
The flattering World attack'd him with her Charms,
But he shook the gaudy Trifle from his Arms;
When Fraud affaulted him, or Fame caress'd,
This he with Ease, and that with Scorn suppress'd:
Firm as the Rocks in rouling Seas abide,
When Flouds of Doubts and Dangers pass beside,
When Griefs come threatning on, or Comfort flows,
He was undepress'd by these, unrais'd by those;
And thus advancing with a just Applause,
He grew a Champion in his Master's Cause;
The Sacred Bow he so Divinely drew,
That every shot both hit and overthrew;
His native Candor, and familiar Stile,
Which did so oft his Hearers Hours beguile,
Charm'd us with Godliness, and while he spake,
We lov'd the Doctrine for the Teacher's sake.
While he inform'd us what his Doctrines meant,
By dint of Practice more than Argument,
Strange were the Charms of his Sincerity,
Which made his Actions and his Words agree
At such a constant and exact a rate,
As made a Harmony we wondred at.
Honour be had by Birth, and not by Chance,
And more by Merit than Inheritance;
But both together joyn'd, spell out his Name,
For Honesty and Honour are the same,
And show, when Merit's joyn'd with Quality,
The Gentleman and Christian may agree.
Honour by Vertue only is upheld,
And vain are all the Trophies Vice can build;
For tho' by wicked Acts Men gain Applause,
The Reputation's rotten, like the Cause:
Vain too's the single Honour of Descent,
Till Merit's added as a Supplement.
But when to Vertue Grace infus'd is given,
The Sacred Incense reaches up to Heaven;
No Force, or Fraud, can such a Fame remove,
It pleases Men below, and God above.
His negative Vertues also have been try'd,
He had no Priest-craft in him, nor no Pride;
No Fraud nor Wheedling Arts to be esteem'd,
But just the very Person that he seem'd;
Nor was he touch'd or tainted with a Bribe,
That universal Blemish of the Tribe:
For if to Gifts he ever was enclin'd,
He laid none up, nor left us none behind.
A Moses for Humility and Zeal,
For Innocence a true Nathaniel;
Faithful as Abraham, or the Truer Spies;
No Man more Honest, and but few so Wise:
Exemplar Vertue shone through every Part;
For Grace had full possession of his Heart:
Humility was his dear and darling Grace,
And Honesty sate Regent in his Face;
Meekness of Soul did in his Aspect shine,
But in the Truth, resolv'd and masculine;
A Pleasing Smile sate ever on his Brow,
A sign that chearful Peace was lodg'd below.
If e'er his Duty forc'd him to contend,
Calmness was all his Temper, Peace his End;
And if just Censure follow'd the Debate,
His Pity wou'd his Zeal anticipate.
A Heavenly Patience did his Mind possess,
Chearful in Pain, and Thankful in Distress;
Mighty in Works of Sacred Charity,
Which none knew better how to guide than he;
Bounty, and generous Thoughts, took up his Mind
Extensive, like his Maker's, to Mankind,
With such a Soul, that (had he Mines in store)
He wou'd ne'er be Rich while any Man was Poor:
A Heart so Great, that, had he had a Purse,
Twou'd have supply'd the Poor o'th' Universe.
Now he's above the Praises of my Pen,
The Best of Ministers, and Best of Men!
Then speak not of him with a mournful Voice;
For why shou'd we Repine, and he Rejoyce?
His Harvest has been full, his Season long,
And long he charm'd us with his Heavenly Song,
The same, the very same, which flaming Love,
Fir'd with Coelestial Raptures, sings above;
Touch'd with a Sacred Influence that's given
From that Eternal Harmony in Heaven;
The Chorus and the Consort ever last,
A full Reward for all his Troubles past.
For if there be a God, and future State,
A Heaven, a Hell, a Good and Evil Fate;
A Great first Cause, Immortal and Immense,
That does Rewards and Punishments dispense;
Then Pious Men, when they revolve to Dust,
Do those Rewards partake, if Heaven be Just:
For Death's a passive Notion; and the whole
Is but a Transmutation of the Soul
From an embodied Life, to a sublime,
Prescrib'd no more to Circumstance and Time;
For if no difference of States there be,
How then do Vice and Vertue disagree?
For here the Disadvantage plainly lies
For Knaves and Fools, against the Just and Wise:
By partial Fame the prosperous Fool's caress'd,
The Bad exalted, and the Good suppress'd.
The Good Man's Expectation then must be
From Happiness with Immortality:
Something which to sublimer Vertue's due,
Something substantial and eternal too,
That can for all his Suffering satisfie,
His Hopes support, and all his Wants supply:
For if to future State we have no regard,
How then can Vertue be its own Reward?
Could but my happy Pen describe the Sense
That seiz'd his joyful Soul at parting hence;
Such Contemplations would transform my Mind;
For Thoughts reach Heaven, when Bodies stay behind:
And he that thinks at so Divine a rate,
May future Happiness anticipate.
When his Heart leap'd at the good News of Death,
And Sacred Extasies employ'd his Breath,
The bless'd Rewards did to his Faith appear,
The Passage easie, and the Prospect near;
And firm Assurance, with a lofty Gale,
Wing'd with Divinest Comfort, fill'd his Sail:
He had the gladsome Regions in his view,
His Hopes were constant, and his Comforts true:
No wonder Balaam wish'd to die so too.
And now Seraphick Joys furround his Soul,
Which feel no diminution or controul:
But what they are, or how far they extend,
No Pen can write, or Thought can comprehend,
But he who at that happy Place arrives;
For Heaven is only knownby Negatives.
How much Coelestial Vision comprehends;
Whether to Humane Actions it extends,
Whether he's now inform'd of Things below,
Is needless as Impossible to know:
For sight of Spirits is unprescrib'd by space.
What see they not, who see the Eternal Face?
The bright transforming Rays of Heavenly Light,
Immense, Immortal, Pure, and Infinite,
Do's Likeness with its Light communicate,
The Spirit exalt, and all its Frame dilate;
Infusing with the bright Similitude
An inexpressible Beatitude!
And could he now, in his exalted State,
His Thoughts by Sympathy communicate,
Or some superior way
For Spirits converse
Without the helps of Voice:
Could he rehearse
To our Conception, what is Heaven above,
'Twou'd be concisely thus, All Heaven is Love:
Love Infinite, Magnificent, and True,
Divine in Magnitude, and Object too:
Love, Joy, and Glory, constitute the Place;
The Exalted Triumphs of Victorious Grace!
No Sorrow can be there, because no Sin;
For all is Peace without, and Pure within.
There all are Gods, and yet they all adore
The One Supream first Cause of Soveraign Power;
And all that Adoration's mix'd with Love,
The great Essential of the Joys above:
That Heaven-born Passion, which with purest Flame
Burns only there: For here 'tis but a Name,
An empty Name, by Int'rest limited,
A Slave to Scandal, and by Fancy led.
Friendship, unmix'd with Sexes, reigns above
The true Extream of high superior Love;
Emblem of Heaven, which it resembles so,
It almost seems to make a Heaven below:
For Love in Heaven, is God communicate;
In Souls, Collateral; both supreamly Great:
The Enjoyment's as reciprocal as high;
For Love's no Passion, but a Quality:
Thro' it the Almighty Glory darts his Beams,
Known only by unutterable Names;
With Light and Splendor unapproach'd enthron'd,
Millions of fiery Spirits attending round,
Who all, like Star [...], have Brightness from his Rays,
And they reflect it back again in Praise.
Where e'er this bless'd Society shall dwell,
That Place is Heaven, and every where else is Hell.
FINIS.

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