A39663:1932
The Fountain of Life Opened
The fountain of life opened, or, A display of Christ in his essential and mediatorial glory wherein the impetration of our redemption by Jesus Christ is orderly unfolded as it was begun, carried on, and finished by his covenant-transaction, mysterious incarnation, solemn call and dedication ... / by John Flavell ...The fountain of life opened, or, A display of Christ in his essential and mediatorial glory wherein the impetration of our redemption by Jesus Christ is orderly unfolded as it was begun, carryed on, and finished by his covenant-transaction, mysterious incarnation, solemn call and dedication ... / by John Flavell ...
London: printed for Rob. White, 1673
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.
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1And now we have seen Jesus interred. He that wears at his girdle the Keys of Hell and Death, himself locked up in the Grave. What shall I say of him whom they now laid in the Grave? Shall I undertake to tell you what he was? What he did, suffered, and deserved? Alas! The tongues of Angels must pause and stammer in such a work. I may truly say as Nazianzen said of Basil, no tongue but his own can sufficiently commend and praise him. He is a Sun of righteousness, a fountain of life, a bundle of Love. Of him it might be said in that day, Here lies the lovely Jesus in whom is treasured up whatsoever an angry God can require for his satisfaction, or an empty creature for his perfection. Before him was none like him, and after shall none arise comparable to him.2 If every leaf, and spire of grass (saith one) nay all the Stars, Sands, and Atoms were so many Souls and Seraphims; whose love should double in them every moment to all eternity; yet would it fall infinitely short of what his worth and excellency exacts. Suppose a creature composed of all the choice endowments that ever dwelt in the best of men since the Creation of the World, in whom you find a meek Moses, a strong Sampson, a faithful Jonathan, a beautiful Absalom, a rich and wise Solomon; nay, and add to this, the understanding, strength, agility, splendour, and holiness of all the Angels: it would all amount but to a dark shadow, of this incomparable Jesus.
1And now we have seen Jesus interred. He that wears at his girdle the Keys of Hell and Death, himself locked up in the Grave. What shall I say of him whom they now laid in the Grave? Shall I undertake to tell you what he was? What he did, suffered, and deserved? Alas! The tongues of Angels must pause and stammer in such a work. I may truly say as Nazianzen said of Basil, no tongue but his own can sufficiently commend and praise him. He is a Sun of righteousness, a fountain of life, a bundle of Love. Of him it might be said in that day, Here lies the lovely Jesus in whom is treasured up whatsoever an angry God can require for his satisfaction, or an empty creature for his perfection. Before him was none like him, and after shall none arise comparable to him.