A25250:174
Ultima, = the last things in reference to the first and middle things
Ultima, = the last things in reference to the first and middle things: or certain meditations on life, death, judgement, hell, right purgatory, and heaven: delivered by Isaac Ambrose, minister of the Gospel at Preston in Amoundernes in Lancashire.
London: printed for J.A., 1650
Title page typeset from the transcription.
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
Use. 1 Animula vagula, blandula, said the heathen Emperor; Pretty, 1little, wandering soul, whither goest thou from me? wilt thou leave me alone, that cannot live without thee? O what conflicts suffers the poor soul, when this time is come, must the soul be gone? help friends, physic, pleasure, riches, nay, take a world to reprieve a soul; so different are the thoughts of men dying, from them living: now, are they for their pleasure, or profit, the body, or the world; but then, nothing is esteemed but the soul. what can we say? but if you mean your souls must be saved, O then let these precious, dear, everlasting things breathed into your bodies for a short abode, scorn to feed on earth, or any earthly things: it is matter of a more heavenly metal, treasures of an higher temper, riches of a nobler ⟨p. 71⟩nature, that must help your souls. Do you think that ever any glorified soul, that now looks God Almighty in the face, and tramples under foot the Sun and Moon, is so bewitched as was Achan with a wedge of gold? no, it is only the Communion of Saints, the society of Angels, the fruition of the Deity,2 the depth of eternity, which can only feed and fill the soul. So live then, as that when you die, your souls may receive this bliss, and the Lord Jesus our Saviour receive all your souls.
Ʋse. 1 Animula vagula, blandula, said the heathen Emperour; Pretty, 1little, wandring soul, whither goest thou from me? wilt thou leave me alone, that cannot live without thee? O what conflicts suffers the poor soul, when this time is come, must the soul be gone? help friends, physick, pleasure, riches, nay, take a world to reprive a soul; so different are the thoughts of men dying, from them living: now, are they for their pleasure, or profit, the body, or the world; but then, nothing is esteemed but the soul. what can we say? but if you mean your souls must be saved, O then let these precious, dear, everlasting things breathed into your bodies for a short abode, scorn to feed on earth, or any earthly things: it is matter of a more heavenly metall, treasures of an higher temper, riches of a nobler