Tristitiæ Christianæ: or An ocean of pious tears. An elegy upon the death of the reverend, pious, and learned minister of the gospel, Mr. Matthew Mead, who departed this life at his dwelling-house in Stepney, on Monday, the 16th day of this instant October, 1699. In the sixty ninth year of his age. / Written by a constant auditor, and sorrowful mourner, for the loss of this reverend deceased pastor.

MEMENTO MORI

Tristitiae Christianae : Or an Ocean of Pious Tears . AN ELEGY Upon the Death of the Reverend , Pious , and Learned Minister of the Gospel , Mr. Matthew Mead , Who Departed this Life at his Dwelling-House in Stepney , on Monday , the 16th Day of this Instant October , 1699. In the Sixty Ninth Year of his Age. Written by a Constant Auditor , and Sorrowful Mourner , for the Loss of this Reverend Deceased Pastor .

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Blessed are the dead which Dye in the Lord .

A Woful Story here I 'm come to tell , Of a Lost Shepherd , whom ye all knew well , Who left us all alone , and 's gone away , Being Wounded with Death's Dart the other Day . D●ctor , pray stay your Sheep i' th Fold they be , Waiting for th' Shepherd , whom they long to see , There for to take some of thy Holy Meat ; But they 're prevented , Death he did them cheat . Judge now , ye Saints , if we han't cause to Weep ! For that the Pastor he hath left his Sheep ! Whom he , with Spiritual Food , did use to feed ; A Saint we 've lost , a Saint he was indeed . But tho' he 's Dead , his Works they will survive His Glorious Soul as if he were alive ; They 'l serve in place of him , though he is gone , And left his Sheep here for to walk alone . Ah! Could not you afford to stay a Space Of Time with us , before you Run the Race . And let us see Thee in the Pulpit stand , Declaring Truth , with Bible in thy Hand : Methinks I see Him , with a jesture , Look Upon his Bible , that most Holy Book , The Word of God , the which he did their Preach , 'T was his Delight it always for to Teach ; Therefore , I say , have not we got great Cause To 'dore his Name , and his good Works Applause . Rouze up , Rouze up , and lend's some of your Tears , For that we 've lost him , it too plain appears ; How can ye thus so easie part with one , Who S●udied always Satan to Unthrone ; And pull him out of all our wicked Hearts , This was the Labour and chiefest parts Of this Divine , who always strove for all , Thousands of times , he did upon them Call Unto Repentance , e're his Glass was Run , But now it 's out , and his whole Thread is spun : The string of Life and he is forc'd to fall , By th' H●nd of Death that fatal General ; Who spareth none , the Good , the Bad he 'll have , And send them quickly to the silent Grave : And leave us hear , to Weep with Floods of Tears , For Famous MEAD , who ( Christ ) taught many Years : But now let 's Mourn and say , Times Glass is out , And with his Sithe with him hath had about , And just like Grass , with it did Mow him down , Whilst we , who do Survive him , needs must own , We lost a Pastor , whom I can't set forth , A Precious Member of a greater worth ; Than Ophir's Gold , or any Riches here : Few , few there are that with him can compare , But bid Farewel to a Chearful Harmony , And with me Tune his Doleful Elegy . In a good Age from us he hence departed , And left his wandring Sheep quite broken-hearted , For loss of Him , whose Years were Sixty Nine , He left the Earth , and up to Heaven did Clime . And here his Aged Wife , she does bemoan The Death of her Good Husband , Holy One , A Man of God , whom God did call and chuse On Earth , his Holy Books her 's for to use . Methinks I see his People for him weep , And Floods of Tears run trickling down the Cheek , Of his most vertuous Wife , who God possest , And with good Children Eight he hath her blest ; Five Sons she bore him , likewise Daughters Three , All which he left Weeping this Day to see . His Wife , she was of a most Noble Race , Vertue abounds with , and with Heavenly Grace , So Generous , so Noble , and so Free , So Courteous is likewise to all she see . And here his Children , they poor Babes , behold His worthy Carcass , and their Hands unfold , With weeping Tears , and nashing Teeth , they cry 'Gainst Death , their Father 's furious Enemy . And here his Congregation came at last , Wishing they could have had the other Blast , From this their Pastor , who is gone to be With his Great Master in Felicity . Oh Cruel Death , what makes you take so fast Away our Doctors , who the Word should cast Of God unto them , who is heard to say We do Lament that Death he took away From us some Preachers , but the other Day , As Famous Bates , and Gammon , he did strike , Now Holy Mead , he hath serv'd him the like , But this you took and he must ever be Sitting with Angels to Eternity . Therefore , stay Death , I pray now come not here , So boldly thus , our Preachers for to clear ; Who would dispence the Holy Word of God , And to Declare the Truth of Mose's Rod , But since their gone , we will not Weep no more , In hopes we 've left their Fellows still good store , Which Christ I hope , he will preserve and keep From Death's bold Hands , who doth them Daily seek . So let them go , their Works will serve to be , Our Devotion and Good Company , And serve the Name of God his Master great , And to the World his Word he did relate , But now in Heaven he doth Praises Sing , With a loud Voice to his Coelestial King , And since Death seiz'd him , let him ever lye , In Heaven above , whilst some do for him Cry : He from the Earth is gone , ever to be , Upon the Throne with his great Majesty .