Observe perfect virtue, thus one fulfills duty,
Then one has performed a wholesome work for oneself.
Let us never restrain the world in this zeal,
So shall one, after death, on Cherubic wings,
Fly along upwards to the heavenly Paradise,
To receive there, instead of this earthly one, the heavenly prize.
Which God shall give us, like the denizens of Heaven;
Then shall one sing eternal praise with God and Jesus.

E P I T A P H .

Here lies HOUBAKKER's corpse, God takes the soul back home.
Now Eloquence is silent, which taught Christ's cross.
He strives for the Heavenly Court. Alas! let us lessen our sorrow,
That is the place where never any disaster can hinder his soul.

Otherwise.

This stone covers the corpse of one of the Church's lights,
Who for five sun-cycles tended MENNO'S sheepfold,
In the bloom of his time, the thread of life cut short.
The mortal rests in the grave, the pure soul with God,
Where he goes to refresh himself forever with heavenly food.
Death spares neither youth, nor virtue, nor gifts of wisdom.

A. v. H.

L A M E N T A T I O N

of the

MENNONITE CHURCH,

over the sudden passing of the Learned

and Eloquent

Dº. JOANNES HOUBAKKER.

Deceased in Amsterdam, the 14th of December. 1716.

An ornamental drop cap 'Z' features floral and leaf motifs within a square frame.If anything is insignificant among sublunary things,
It is the life of man, full of changes;
Those who today, like a flower, stand in full luster,
Lie tomorrow entirely withered, turned to dust and mire.
O weak! O fragile frame! you give me cause to lament.
This Shepherd of my Church, who only a few days ago
Ascended the Pulpit, and gave wise lessons,
Has been snatched from me by cruel death to the dark grave.
My bosom is distraught, and the heart gripped by mourning.
Oh defenseless flock! I see your heads hanging.
HOUBAKKER dead, O tragedy! worthy of being mourned by all.
May Heaven grant that no greater disaster occurs.
Is his life-lamp then extinguished here among us?
Have we lost him, alas! so suddenly vanished here
In the bloom of his time? is he thus robbed from me?
O death! what is it to you, that you dim his light?
I see the orphans standing, nearly collapsed from sorrow,
Tears streaming along their sad cheeks in the silence,