N00941:324
Meat out of the eater. Or, Funeral-discourses occasioned by the death of several relatives.…
Meat out of the eater. Or, Funeral-discourses occasioned by the death of several relatives. Work accommodated unto the service of all that are in any affliction; but very particularly such as are afflicted with the loss of their consorts or children. / By Cotton Mather. ; [Four lines from I Corinthians]
Boston: printed by B. Green & J. Allen for Benjamin Eliot, 1703
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.
But, then, there is a Compellation of the Prophet. Son of M•n A Title rear one hundred times over addressed unto him. For a, Son of Man, to have the amiable Companion of his Life torn from him, Oh! Tis a Sorrowful Thing! He must be more than a man, (or, worse than a Brute!) who feels not more than ordinary Sorrows upon it. He, and his rare contemporary Daniel, were admitted unto an astonishing ⟨p. 195⟩Familiarity with the Angels of God: The Angels of Heaven flew down to them in their Studies, and ravished them with Sensible and most Heavenly Communications. Now, Lest they should forget themselves to be Feeble men, and that they might not forget to be Humble Men, the Angels that favoured them with their Visits, would still use that Style, Son of Man! Son of Man! Accordingly, we find them at the very mention of that word, sometimes falling down into the Dust, before the glorious Angels of the Lord. The Angels of God would have this brave man feel, That he was but a Son of Man; And surely, there would soon arrive Mortifications enough in that one point, I take away the Desire of thine Eyes with a Stroke, to convince him of his being so.
But, then, there is a Compellation of the Prophet. Son of M•n A Title rear one hundred times over address'd unto him. For a, Son of Man, to have the amiable Companion of his Life torn from him, Oh! Tis a Sorrowful Thing! He must be more than a man, (or, worse than a Bruit!) who feels not more than ordinary Sorrows upon it. He, and his rare contemporary Daniel, were admitted unto an astonishing ⟨p. 195⟩Familiarity with the Angels of God: The Angels of Heaven flew down to them in their Studies, and ravished them with Sensible and most Heavenly Communications. Now, Lest they should forget themselves to be Feeble men, and that they might not forget to be Humble Men, the Angels that favoured them with their Visits, would still use that Style, Son of Man! Son of Man! Accordingly, we find them at the very mention of that word, sometimes falling down into the Dust, before the glorious Angels of the Lord. The Angels of God would have this brave man feel, That he was but a Son of Man; And surely, there would soon arrive Mortifications enough in that one point, I take away the Desire of thine Eyes with a Stroke, to convince him of his being so.