For his tomb he had himself written this inscription: "May the here interred Thomas, late Bishop of Bath and Wells, and uncanonically Deprived for not transferring his Allegiance, have a perfect consumation of Blisse, both in body and soul, at the great Day, of which God keep me always mindfull."

One sentence of his will has been very often quoted:

"As for my religion I die in the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Faith, professed by the whole Church, before the disunion of East and West; more particularly I die in the Communion of the Church of England, as it stands distinguished from all Papall and Puritan Innovations, and as it adheres to the doctrine of the Cross."

The words which follow are equally worthy of quotation: "I beg pardon of all whom I have any way offended; and I entirely forgive all those who have any ways offended me. I acknowledge myself a very great and miserable Sinner; but dye in humble confidence, that, on my repentance, I shall be accepted in the Beloved."

Many have thought that Dryden's lines concerning the Good Parson were suggested by the saintly life and character of Bishop Ken. The elements of the description meet in Ken. They do not meet in any other noted man amongst his contemporaries.

Some will be interested, I think, in reading a part of what Dryden has so beautifully said:

A parish priest was of the pilgrim train,
An awful, reverend, and religious man;
His eyes diffused a venerable grace,
And charity itself was in his face:

Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor,
(As God had clothed His own Ambassador
For such, on earth, his blest Redeemer bore).
Of sixty years he seemed, and well might last
To sixty more, but that he lived to fast:
Refined himself to soul, to curb the sense,
And made almost a sin of abstinence.
Yet had his aspect nothing of severe;
But such a face as promised him sincere,
Nothing reserved or sullen was to see
But sweet regards and pleasing sanctity:

Mild was his accent and his accents free.
With eloquence innate his tongue was armed,
Tho' harsh the precept, yet the preacher charmed;
For, letting down the golden chain on high,
He drew his audience upward to the sky;
And oft, with holy hymns, he charmed their ears
(A music more melodious than the spheres);
For David left him, when he went to rest,
His lyre; and, after him, he sang the best.
He bore his great commission in his look,

But sweetly tempered awe, and softened all he spoke.
He preached the joys of heaven, and pains of hell,
And warned the sinner with becoming zeal,

But on eternal mercy loved to dwell.

He taught the Gospel rather than the Law,

And forced himself to drive, but loved to draw.

*

Wide was his parish, not contracted close

In streets, but here and there a straggling house:
Yet still he was at hand, without request,
To serve the rich, to succor the distressed,
Tempting on foot, alone, without affright
The dangers of a dark, tempestuous night.

The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheered,
Nor to rebuke the rich offender feared.

His preaching much, but more his practice wrought,
A living sermon of the truths he taught.

The prelate for his holy life he prized,
The worldly pomp of prelacy despised.
His Saviour came not with a gaudy show,

Nor was His Kingdom of the world below.

Patience in want, and poverty of mind,

These marks of Church and Churchmen he designed, And living, taught, and dying, left behind.

Such was the Saint who shone with every grace,
Reflecting, Moses-like, his Maker's face.

God saw His image lively was expressed,

And His own work, as in creation, blessed.

*

Much to himself he thought, but little spoke,

And, undeprived, his benefice forsook.

Now, through the land, his cure of souls he stretched,
And, like a primitive Apostle, preached:

Still cheerful, ever constant to his call,

By many followed, loved by most, admired by all

With what he begged his brethren he relieved

*

And gave the charities himself received;

Gave while he taught, and edified the more

Because he shewed by proof 'twas easy to be poor.

In this connection one brief passage from Macaulay is worth quotation. He is writing of a time when the jails of Somersetshire and Dorsetshire were filled with thousands of captives, and says: "The chief friend and protector of these unhappy men in their extremity was one who abhorred their re ligious and political opinions, one whose Order they hated, and to whom they had done unprovoked wrong-Bishop Ken. That good prelate used all his influence to soften the jailers, and retrenched from his own Episcopal State that he might be able to make some addition to the coarse and scanty fare of those who had defaced his beloved Cathedral. His conduct on this occaHis intellect was indeed

sion was of a piece with his whole life. darkened by many superstitions and prejudices; but his moral character, when impartially reviewed, sustains a comparison with any in ecclesiastical history, and seems to approach as near as human infirmity permits to the ideal perfection of Christian virtue."

There is space remaining for a final word concerning those three hymns, two of which have been sung for two centuries and may be sung for centuries yet to come. They were first printed (with their author's approval) in that Devout Manual for Winchester Scholars, which has not yet lost its charm or power. Following Dean Plumptre, I give the three hymns in full from the edition of the Winchester Manual of 1697, noting in italics the various readings of that of 1712.

A MORNING HYMN.

Awake my Soul, and with the Sun,

Thy daily stage of Duty run;

Shake off dull Sloth, and early [joyful] rise,

To pay thy Morning Sacrifice.

Redeem thy mispent time that's past,
Live this day, as if 'twere thy last:
T'improve thy Talent take due care,
Gainst the great Day thy self prepare.
[Thy precious Time mis-spent, redeem;
Each present Day thy last esteem;
Improve thy Talent with due care,
For the Great Day thy self prepare.]

Let all thy Converse [In Conversation] be sincere,

Thy [Keep] Conscience as the Noon-day [Noon-tide] clear; Think how all-seeing God thy ways,

And all thy secret Thoughts surveys.

Influenc'd by [By influence of] the Light Divine,

Let thy own Light in good Works [to others] shine:
Reflect all Heaven's propitious ways [Rays],

In ardent Love, and chearful Praise.

Wake and lift up thyself, my Heart,

And with the Angels bear thy part,

Who all night long unwearied sing,

Glory [High Praise] to the Eternal King.

Awake, awake, [I wake, I wake],* ye Heavenly Choire,

May your Devotion me inspire,

That I, like you, my Age may spend,

Like you, may on my God attend.

May I, like you, in God delight,
Have all day long my God in sight,
Perform, like you, my Maker's Will;
O may I never more do ill!

*This is a later variation.

Had I your Wings, to Heaven I'd flie,
But God shall that defect supply,

And my Soul wing'd with warm desire,
Shall all day long to Heav'n aspire.

Glory [All Praise] to Thee who safe hast kept,
And hast refresht me whilst I slept.
Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake,
I may of endless Light partake.

I would not wake, nor rise again,
Ev'n Heav'n itself I would disdain,
Wert not Thou there to be enjoy'd,
And I in Hymns to be imploy'd.

Heav'n 18, dear Lord, where'er Thou art,
O never then from me depart;

For to my Soul 'tis Hell to be,

But for one moment without [void of] Thee.

Lord, I my vows to Thee renew,

Scatter my sins as Morning dew,

Guard my first springs of Thought, and Will,
And with Thy self my Spirit fill.

Direct, controul, suggest this day,

All I design, or do, or say;

That all my Powers, with all their might,

In Thy sole Glory may unite.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,

Praise Him, all Creatures here below,

Praise Him above, y' Angelick [ye Heavenly] Host,

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

AN EVENING HYMN.

Glory [All Praise] to Thee, my God, this night,

For all the Blessings of the Light;

Keep me, O keep me, King of Kings,

Under [Beneath] Thy own Almighty Wings.

Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son,

The ill that I this day have done,

That with the World, my self, and Thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.