The life and funeral sermon of the Reverend Mr. Thomas Brand Dr. Samuel Annesley

X. How Blessed he, who only would receive Of Heaven's Free Gift, that he might freely give: God's Almoner, a Bishop though no Peer, [To Church, and Poor a Just, kind Overseer.] He knew his Order free for Marriage-bands; Was Free in them; they could not Tie his hands: A Match (for him by Heaven's Care designed) He found Well-fitted to his Generous Mind: Thus, Clear of Popish, feigned Chastity, Did even their Fame of Charity outvie: Though […] can scarce be told, his Right-hand did, Which from his Left industriously was Hid. Children he had; Born, not for Earth, but Heaven; To him, that gave them, so entirely given; The Covenant for them, so Improved and Pressed, God took them Early Ripe to Endless Rest. Thus, was he still Surviving Glorified; He walk, his lived with God: And when he died, Left a Name better than of Children here; Souls Born to God, and Nurtured in his Fear.

X. How Blessed he, who only would receive Of Heaven's Free Gift, that he might freely give: God's Almoner, a Bishop thô no Peer, [To Church, and Poor a Just, kind Overseer.] He knew his Order free for Marriage-bands; Was Free in them; they could not Tie his hands: A Match (for him by Heaven's Care design'd) He found Well-fitted to his Generous Mind: Thus, Clear of Popish, feigned Chastity, Did ev'n their Fame of Charity outvy: Thô 〈…〉 can scarce be told, his Right-hand did, Which from his Left industriously was Hid. Children he had; Born, not for Earth, but Heav'n; To him, that gave them, so intirely given; The Covenant for them, so Improv'd and Prest, God took them Early Ripe to Endless Rest. Thus, was he still Surviving Glorify'd; He walke, his liv'd with God: And when he dy'd, Left a Name better than of Children here; Souls Born to God, and Nurtur'd in his Fear.

XI. His Care for Heaven was: He Heaven's Care;¹ None should be set; or he escape the Snare: Once Way-laid, to be seized Hell's Prisoner; Made Heaven's, at Large, just till the Coast was clear: 'Twas fit His Feet should hold their Liberty; Whose Tongue, Hand, Purse, to Hell's despite were free But (Ah!) He spent himself too Lavishly: His Body 'd not Respite, scarce Repair; Souls did so far Engross his Time and Care. Till, forced less to Work, he seemed Confined; Earth grew a Prison to his Heavenly Mind: His Three Years Weakness, and continued Pain Hung on his active Soul, a heavy Chain; Fo'd in the Feverish Fire of Native heat, By Pious Travel roused, enraged by Damping Wet: His Legs, now Fettered, Swell; Through every Part Pain ran, in vain Pursued by Medic Art; Yea though it sometimes made a daring Halt, As from his Side the Vitals to Assault;