Sanderson, Bishop of Lincoln, died in January, 1663. When in his illness petitions were offered for his recovery, he remarked that "his friends said their prayers backward for him; and that it was not his desire to live a useless life, and, by filling up a place, keep another out of it, that might do God and His Church service." With his dying breath he exclaimed, "Thou, O God, tookest me out of my mother's womb, and hast been the powerful protector of me to this present moment of my life. Thou hast neither forsaken me now I am become grey-headed, nor suffered me to forsake Thee in the late days of temptation, and sacrifice my conscience for the preservation of my liberty or estate. It was by grace that I have stood, when others have fallen under my trials; and these mercies I now remember with joy and thankfulness, and my hope and desire is that I may die praising Thee." He had no taste for funeral parade, and expressly directed in his will, that he should be buried with as little noise, pomp, and charge as might be--no escutcheons, gloves, ribbons--no black hangings in the church, only a pulpit cloth, a hearse cloth, and a mourning gown for the preacher of the funeral sermon--who was to have five pounds for the service, upon condition, that he spoke nothing of the deceased, either good or ill, "other," Sanderson adds, "than I myself shall direct." Nor was any costly monument to be raised to his memory, "only a fair flat marble stone."[426] [Sidenote: PRELATES.] Juxon, Archbishop of Canterbury, expired at Lambeth Palace, on the 4th of June; and left behind him an honourable renown for meekness, constancy, fortitude, and liberality. The sums which he contributed to public objects of charity and religion amounted to no less than £48,000. Archbishop Bramhall departed this life, in Dublin, on the 25th of the same month, after three fits of paralysis. To use the words of Jeremy Taylor in his funeral sermon for the Primate, "As the Apostles in the vespers of Christ's passion, so he, in the eve of his own dissolution, was heavy, not to sleep, but heavy unto death; and looked for the last warning, which seized on him in the midst of business; and though it was sudden, yet it could not be unexpected or unprovided by surprise, and therefore could be no other than that εὐθανασία, which Augustus used to wish unto himself, a civil and well-natured death, without the amazement of troublesome circumstances, or the great cracks of a falling house, or the convulsions of impatience."[427] Through vacancies at the time of the Restoration, and deaths and translations afterwards, within two years and a half, mitres fell to the disposal of the Crown more than twenty times. [Sidenote: 1663.]