A summons to the grave, or, The necessity of a timely preparation for death…

Impartial Reader,

Supposing thee to be One that was not at this late Funeral; or if thou wert there, couldst not have the opportunity to hear the Sermon (by reason of the straightness of the place, and the multitude of People) and perceiving it is partly for thy sake, the Printing of it has bin so much desired, I thought it might not be unnecessary to offer a word or two briefly unto thee, whether it deserves such a Publication or not, it will come now under thy Censure; however, if thou knowest the Person that taught it, I am satisfied, thou wilt not lose thy expectation, nothing excellent thou dost expect, considering the weakness and shallowness of the Preacher, how shouldst thou; yet if thou hast nothing of Prejudice in thy heart against him, from that contemnable apprehensions thou and others have of that he is not wholly without hopes, but that some small profit thou mayst gain hereby; Let the consideration of the subject prevail upon thee, however to give it the reading; 'tis, you hear, a Summons to the Grave: thou canst never hear too often of death; and sure this Sermon will not offend thee, if thou art one that dost live, ⟨image 5⟩I mean, live indeed, in the sight and steadfast belief of a future life, an eternity of happiness or misery; I have read, that Philip King of Macedon, commanded one of his Pages to awake him every Morning and call aloud to him, Sir, remember you are a man: This great Monarch did not disdain to be roused every day from sleep with the News of death, though it was but by the Mouth of his poor sorry Page, and shall any of us slight the Message, through want of affection to the Messenger; but perhaps, thou mayst be one that likes neither, may be thou dost not care to hear of the tidings of dying, and art ready to judge them melancholy fools that break their sleep about it; These who are indeed prepared for it, have no cause to be disquieted in thoughts of it; but what wilt thou do when death comes, that hast a guilty conscience; have you not heard of that poor soul, who cried out in horror and distress of spirit upon his death-bed, O what shall I do, I am so sick that I cannot live, and yet so unprepared that I dare not die: Remember, that the thoughts of death, when it comes, will abate thy courage, 'twill make the proudest heart to stoop;