Aigilantius.

OR,

A Servant of the LORD Found Ready for the

Coming of the LORD.

A Difcourfe

Occafioned by the Early Death of SEVEN Young

Ministers,

Within a Little while One of another: With fome ESSAY, upon their very Commendable and Imitable CHARACTER.

And an ELEGY upon them.

Vigilare debet omnis Christianus, ne eum im paratum invent at Domini Adventus. Impa ratum autem inveniet Dies ille, quem imparatum inveniet Suæ Vitæ ultimus Dies. Aug. ad Diofcor.

Bolton: Printed & Sold by B. Green. Atthe South End of the Town. 1706.

G

On the GRAVES

OF MY

Young Brethren,

[ Carent quia vate Sacro ]

Raves! Where in Duft are laid our dearest Pay, Paffengers, your Tributary Drops, (Hopes! Your Tears Allow'd, yea, Hallowed now become, Since Tears were drop't by JESUS on a Tomb. Churches, Weep on ; & Wounded yield your Tears; Tears use to flow from hack't New-English Firrs. Zion, Thy Sons are gone; Tho' men might see This and that Man, brave Men, were born in thee. Tell, what they were; Let thy True Trumpet tell Truth of the Sons of Truth, and how they fell. Sure, when our Sev'n did to their Seats retire, Th' Harmonious Nine did not with them expire. Smooth Numbers firft were form'd for Themes like T'immortalize deferving Memories. (these ;

First, What they were not, Say; For they were Not Such as their Mother might account a Blot.

Rot

Not fuch as to the Sacred Prieft-hood fly,
Meerly as to a Craft, to Live thereby.
Rot, who at Church seem Serious and Demure,
But out of it, no Strictness can Endure.

Not those who dare Jest with Gods awful Word
And Lewdly can Play with the Flaming Sword.
Not the Black Folks, where nothing White we know
But what an Open'd Mouth may chance to show.
Not Snuffs, instead of Stars; (the Room, no doubt,
Would Sweeter be, if Such were turned out.)
Rot Blind-men [So the Talmuds reckon them!]
Who Dark themselves, hold Lights to other men.
Not Lads, whom for their Levity alone
The Punning Tribe, De Tribu Levi, own.
Not who to Pulpits hop Unfledg'd and there
Talk twice a Week, and Preach not once a year.
Not those who do the Pious Neighbour Shun,
But to the Wicked Sons of Belial run.

Not those who hate their Work, as Boyes the Rod,
And hate and flout Laborious Men of God.

If fuch there are; Take, Lord, thy Holy Scourge,
And from fuch Nufances, thy Temple Purge!

Not fuch my Sons; by Zion fo we're told;
Sons comparable to the Finest Gold.

But, What they were, Fair Lady, canft thou fay,

What thy Loft Seven, and not faint

away!

For with her Seven Sons, and fuch as these, Dy'd the brave Mother of the Maccabees. Mirrours of Piety they were, and knew

Betimes, how to be Wife and Good and True.

Early