On another mural monument.
Nerford, gul. a lion rampant arg.
Beneath this wall, Henry Nerford, Batchelor of Divinity, Rector of this Church, where he was Minister XLV Years, a Man learned and Pious, a most obedient Son and Servant, of the Church of England, his Mother, and a most Faithfull Subject of the King, the Father of his Country, in Expectation of a blessed Resurrection lie and the rest; to whose religious Memorie Margaret Nerford, the Relict of his Nephew James Nerford, frankely erected this Monument of Respect and Gratitude, 1684.
An under the monument lies a stone over him, with his arms and this inscription, of the same purport as the former,
Henricus Nerford Theologiæ Baccalaureus, hujus Ecclesiæ Rector, cui præfuit Annos XLV, vir doctus, et pius, Ecclesiæ Anglieanæ Mater, ejusdemque et Patriæ Patris Filius et Servus obsequentissimus, Resurrectionis beatificæ Candidatus, hic Requiescit, ob. Jun. 4to An: 1684. Æt. suæ LXXXV.
I find only two stones with inscriptions in the nave; one is for Anne wife of John Burton, 14 Oct. 1650. Hodie Mihi, Cras tibi.
The other hath a crest, an arm cooped at the shoulder, holding a battle-ax. And these arms, on a chevron between three lions erased, three serpents.
Here lyeth interred the Body of Capt. JOHN GIBBS, of the County of Norfolk, Gent, died the 22d of October 1695, in the 48 Yeare of his Age, he married Elizabeth Pride, the Daughter of Tho. Pride, Esq. and Eliz. Monk, the Daughter of Sir Tho. Monk, by whom he had two Sons, John, and Christopher, and three Daughters, Mary, Eliz. and Anne, John, Mary, and Anne, now living.
This narrow Space confines his dear Remaines Whose glorious better Part, Survives and reigns, Immortal Virtues now embalm his Name, And fix him, high, in the great List of Fame, The gen'rous Friendship that adorn'd his Mind, Was boundless, as the Needs of humane Kind, But where Relation did the Band indeare, The Rays contracted, did more warm appear, So good a Husband, Father, Brother, Son, As few have equal'd, none has e'er outdone; Such Charity thro' his whole Life was shown, As made the Wants of other, seem his own, His Soul so truly Brave, he knew no fear, Ev'n Death it's self, made no Impression there, Tis true he yielded, but Death lost the Prize, For he but stoop't, that he might higher rise.
P. M. S. posuit, Vidua Marens.
