Classic Poem

Mo unt Fame , the glorious Chariot of the Sun;
Through the World's Cirque , all you, her Herald's, run:
And let this Great Saint's Merits be reveal'd,
Which, during Life, he studiously conceal'd.
Cite all the Levites , fetch the Sons of Art ,
In these our Dolours to sustain a part.
Warn all that value Worth , and every one
Within their Eyes to bring an Helicon .
For in this single Person we have lost
More Riches, than an India has engrost.

When Wilson , that Plerophory of Love ,
Did froMour Banks , up to his Center move,
Rare Whiting quotes Columbus on this Coast,
Producing Gems , of which a King might boast.
More splendid far than ever Aaron wore,
Within his Breast, this Sacred Father bore.
Sound Doctrine Urim , in his Holy Cell,
And all Perfections Thummim there did dwell.
His Holy Vesture was his Innocence ,
His Speech, Embroideries of curious Sence .
Such awful Gravity this Doctor us'd,
As if an Angel every Word infus'd.
No Turgent Stile, but Asiatic Store;
Conduits were almost full, seldom run o're
The Banks of Time: Come Visit when you will,
The Streams of Nectar were descending still:
Much like Septemfluous Nilus , rising so,
He watered Christians round, and made them grow.
His modest Whispers could the Conscience reach,
As well as Whirlwinds , which some others preach;
No Boanerges , yet could touch the Heart,
And clench his Doctrine by the meekest Art .
His Learning and his Language , might become
A Province not inferiour to Rome.
Glorious was Europe 's Heaven, when such as these
Stars of his Size, shone in each Diocess .

Who writ'st the Fathers Lives , either make Room,
Or with his Name begin your Second Tome .
Ag'd Polycarp , Deep Origen , and such
Whose Worth your Quills ; your Wits not them , enrich;
Lactantius, Cyprian, Basil too the Great,
Quaint Jerom, Austin of the foremost Seat,
With Ambrose , and more of the Highest Class,
In CHRIST's great School , with Honour, I let pass;
And humbly pay my Debt to Whiting 's Ghost,
Of whom both Englands , may with Reason boast.
Nations for Men of Lesser Worth have strove,
To have the Fame , and, in Transports of Love,
Built Temples , or fix'd Statues of pure Gold,
And their vast Worth to After-Ages told.
His Modesty forbad so fair a Tomb ,
Who in Ten Thousand Hearts obtain'd a Room.

What sweet Composures in his Angels Face!
What soft Affections, Melting Gleams of Grace!
How mildly pleasant! By his closed Lips,
Rhetoricks Bright Body suffers an Eclipse .
Should half his Sentences be truly Numbred ,
And weigh'd in Wisdom's Scales, 'twould spoil a Lombard :
And Churches Homilies , but Homily be,
If, Venerable WHITING, set by thee.
Profoundest Judgment , with a Meekness rare,
Preferr'd him to the Moderator 's Chair;
Where like Truth 's Champion , with his piercing Eye,
He silenc'd Errors , and made Hectors fly.
Soft Answers quell hot Passions ; ne'er too soft
Where solid Judgment is enthron'd aloft.
Church Doctors are my Witnesses, that here
Affections always kept their proper Sphere ,
Without those Wilder Eccentricities ,
Which spot the fairest Fields of Men most Wise.
In pleasant Places fall that Peoples Line ,
Who have but Shadows of Men thus Divine.
Much more their Presence , and Heaven pierceing Prayers ,
Thus many Years, to mind our Soul Affairs.
A poorest Soil oft has the Richest Mine ;
This Weighty Oar poor Lyn was lately thine.
O Wondrous Mercy! but this Glorious Light
Hath left thee in the Terrors of the Night.
New England , didst thou know this Mighty One .
His Weight and Worth, thou'dst think thy self undone:
One of thy Golden Chariots, which among
The Clergy , render'd thee a Thousand strong:
One , who for Learning, Wisdom, Grace, and Years,
Among the Levites hath not many Peers:
One , yet with God a Kind of Heavenly Band ,
Who did whole Regiments of Woes withstand:
One , that prevail'd with Heaven; One greatly mist
On Earth ; he gain'd of Christ whate'er he list:
One of a World; who was both born and bred
At Wisdom 's Feet , hard by the Fountain 's Head .
The Loss of such an One , would fetch a Tear,
From Niobe her self, if she were here.

What qualifies our Grief , centers in This ,
Be our Loss near so Great, the Gain is his .