The Life and Death of Vavasor Powell, Poems
On the Death of Mr. VAVASOR POWELL.
HEre weary Nature, and unwearied Grace,
By wayes unlike have finiſhed their race.
For under their Directors eye they tend,
By divers means to the ſame bleſſed end.
Nature by her decays accompliſht is,
And Grace by thriving brings the ſoul to bliſs;
Trouble adds wings to both, and ſpeeds their way
Ʋnto Eternal Reſt, where's perfect Day.
This was thy prayer, to haſtens whoſe deſire,
Grace, Nature, Trouble, do in one conſpire:
Nature impair'd by Sufferings, haſtes t'entomb,
Her wearied Limbs in her great Mothers womb:
And grace grown near to Glory, brooks no more
A diſtance from her fulneſs and her ſtore;
So have I ſeen a pleaſant ſtream to glide
With gentle calmneſs to the Ocean ſide;
Adorning in his way the neighbouring Fields,
With the rich fruits which his free bounty yields.
When boysterous Winds and Storms aſſault with force,
His peaceful ſtreams, envying his work and courſe:
As him forbidding any more to bring
Himſelf an homage to his Lord and King;
With whoſe rebuke provok'd, he ſummons wide
The ſtrength of's Waves for to controule their pride;
And heightned by oppoſing preſſeth on
With violence unto his Ocean.
Such was thy courſe, ſeeking ev'n from thy Youth,
The eternal Spring of Goodneſs and of Truth.
Refreſhing others with the influence
Of Christal Living ſtreams, deriv'd from thence:
When wrathful Tempeſts unprovok'd did ſwell,
Striving thy labouring mind for to repell
From her juſt courſe, this made thee ſpeed thy love
To Freedom, Reſt, and what is elſe above:
There full repoſe, light, truth and peace do bleſs
Thy welcome Soul with ſacred happineſs.
Nature now faints no more, nor doth Grace grow,
And Trouble's left behind to us below.
Upon the Death of that painful and Laborious Servant of Jeſus Chriſt in the Work of the Goſpel, Vavaſor Powell, who died the 27 of the 8 monethmonth, 1670.
LIke to the ripened ſhock of Corn that's brought
Into the Barn, or like a Shipfull fr ught
With Indians riches, which through raging Seas
Ariveth at the Harbor of its eaſe,
So Vavaſor was gathered into reſt,
With Heavenly treaſure, being greatly bleſt.
A tried faith more pretious then the Gold
That Ophir yielded Solomon of old,
A patience wrought by Bonds, to ſuch degree,
As made him triumph over miſery,
Heavenly experiences, from patience gained,
With ſuch a hope, as maketh not aſham'd,
Did fraight this Pinnace, which with furled Sail,
Safely is entred now within the Vail,
Where all the Saints ſhall Land, Though Billows ſwell,
Opening their Jaws to ſwallow up like hell.
Yet know proud waves, although you rage and rore
You ſhall but break your ſelves againſt the ſhoare,
Then be encourag'd you that ſpread your ſails,
On foaming furyes, blown with various gales,
To make a happy Port you need not fear
Whilſt you with Vavaſor your courſe ſhall ſteer.
If the Olempick Agoniſts did fight
And run, and wraſtle; with their utmoſt might.
If they did think it of ſo great renown,
To win the prize, though but a with'ring Crown,
If they did ſtreine and ſtrive with all their powers,
To wreath their heads about with fading Flowers,
Then ſurely Heaven, and a Crown of Life,
Is worthy of a Chriſtians greateſt ſtrife.
Thus Powell thought, and therefore did ingage
Gainſt Sin, and Satan, and a wicked age.
And like a Rock that is aſſaulted by
Impetuous waves, yet lifts his head on high
As unconcern'd, and makes his ſtanding good,
Againſt the batteries of the Ocean Flood,
So Powel helpt by an Almighty hand,
In perils, priſons, deaths, unmov'd did ſtand
In the Lords work, until he gave that call,
Come up to Heaven, and reap the fruit of all.
An Achroſtick upon his dear deceaſed friend. Mr. Vavaſor Powell.
V ain World, to undermine unto thy ſhame,
A ll thoſe choice Pillars that bear up thy frame,
V nto approaching Chriſt, when they ſhall fly,
A ll thy proud p…mp in fiery flames ſhall lye,
S lighted Ambaſſadors, when called home,
O ften beſpeaks great evils for to come,
R epent then perſecutors, and be kind,
P owell hath pray'd that you may pardon find,
O h now theſe offers of ſoul ſaving grace,
W hich he from Chriſt proclaim'd, do you imbrace.
E ntred he is to glory, through that way,
L aid open by him, whilſt he here did ſtay,
L ove thou the Paths of Life, in this your day.
An Elogy on the Death of the Precious and Faithful Servant of the Lord, Mr. Vavaſor Powell, who dyed in Priſon for the Testimony of Jeſus Christ.
TRiumphant holy ſoul at laſt ſet free
By Order from above, to Liberty,
Moſt Glorious, from Bonds of 10 years date
In cloſeſt Priſons, Caſtles deſolate.
In Jeremiahs Dungeon, and with John,
In Patmos Iſle Brother Companion.
Th' Accuſers charge the ſame pretended crimes
For witneſſing 'gainſt Sodom's ſins o'th times,
For the word of God, and Teſtimony true,
To Jeſus Chriſt, and what Obedience due.
To his bleſt Goſpel, Kingdom, Government,
O're Saints and Nations in eſtabliſhment.
England with Sackcloth gird thy ſelf, lament
And howle, who ſtoneſt zealous Prophets; ſent
To call and warn, and witneſſes doſt kill,
To ſtop their mouths, thy meaſure great to fill,
Thy day is come, year of thy viſitation
Thy bloody ſins preſage thy deſolation.
Lament benighted Wales, thy Prophets gone
Who or'e thee us'd to weeps and ſtill bemoan
Thy ſins and ſouls, when willing hearts did fly
(Like Doves to th'windows) to's bleſt miniſtry
Cry out, my Father Iſraels Chariots gone,
The Horſe-men alſo, and l'me left alone.
Where is Eliahs God? Oh cry let ſome
A double portion of his ſpirit come
On mournful watchmen left, whoſe ſouls do give,
The Lord no reſt, till Zions glory live,
Here is the patience of the Saints that keep
Chriſts teſtimony till they fall aſleep.
Victorious ſoul, hence from thy labours reſt;
Thou dying for, and in the Lord art bleſt,
Thy ſoul made up of love, and not confin'd
To narrow judgment, but with Saints combin'd,
As Saints in tender, ſweet Communion,
Still mourning after all their Union.
Under the Altar now thy blood doth cry
How long? till Chriſt ariſe to victory.
Mean while white Robes are given thee untill
The laſt ſore Plagues the Nations ſhall fill.
And Saints with Crowns return, duſt raiſ'd again,
To Judge the world with Chriſt, and with him reign.
VAVASOR POWELL. Anagram. Ʋp al leau' Sorow.
V nto thy long'd fo… Jeſus thou art fled,
A ll Saints the while lamenting thou art dead,
V pon them yet methinks I hear thee call,
A Las why weep you I am out of thrall?
S ouls where I am do Hallelujas ſing,
O haſt and follow to attend your King.
R eſt thou ſweet ſoul in thy eternal joys.
P oor mortals what have we but tranſient toyes?
O nce thou didſt live to Preach thy Saviours grace,
W ell now rewarded with his glorious face.
E nvy did haſte thy joys, create our woe.
L ord pardon them that know not what they do,
L et us turn grief to care, lift up our hearts,
Thou art ſecure, may we ſo act our parts.
An Epitaph.
A Corps lyes here whoſe ſoul's above
Debaucht mens hate, devout mens love,
The Welch mens friend, the maul of ſin
Who wooed all, did many win,
Within this Grave, one lyes inhum'd
Whoſe prayers the priſons had perfum'd,
Haunted by Nimrods in his Life,
Waits for the joy of the Lambs wife.
In Honourable memory of my Eſteemed Friend VAVASOR POWELL.
Acroſtick.
Anagram Pale Sorow Vale.
V ain are thoſe hopes fixt on beſt things below,
A s providence by proof this day doth ſhow.
V iew well this Tomb, there reſteth in this place,
A Cabinet of Gifts, experience, grace,
S o famous, faithful, forward in Gods ways,
O ut doing moſt, 'bove moſt deſerving praiſe,
R eaps now rewards, is crown d with conquering Bayes.
P owell the great Apoſtle once in Wales,
O n ſtubborn hearts his Doctrine much prevails.
W ith dexterous skill, and with admired ſucceſs
E ach Sermon Preacht abundantly was bleſt,
L abouring and ſuffering till his ſtrength did fail,
L et all mourn moderate, but Pale Sorow Vale.
Vailed firſt in fleſh, then Priſon, now Earths womb
Poſſeſs thee till Chriſt glorious day doth come.
Ʋpon the Death of that Faithful Servant of the Lord, and conſtant witneſs of his truth, Mr. Vavaſor Powell, who dyed a Priſoner of the Lord, the 27 of the 8 monethmonth, 1670. VAVASOR POWELL.
Anagram V. P. a ſavor well.
An other. Lov's paver awe.
V aliant for truth on Earth, a good degree
A mongſt Gods worthies was attaind by thee
V aſt was thy knowledge, thy experience ſuch,
A s few there are do equalize by much,
S o Wales thy native Country can tell,
O f how great worth, how much thou didſt excell.
R eproach'd, however thou didſt Savour well.
P roved thou waſt by tryals manifold
O re, now refined into pureſt Gold,
W eeping we're left, thy ſable ſhrone about
E ach thought of thee a freſh ſigh ſending out,
L ook here Lov's paver hath to death reſign'd
L ook once again a Wo is left behind.
Unworthy world, thou in it couldſt not reſt,
Paid off thy ſcore, receiv'd th' quietus eſt.
If I would chooſe how I diſcharg'd would be,
Fain would I chooſe a like diſcharge with thee.
On Vavaſor Powells death, a Memorial by … Friend, in three Elegies.
1.
VIctorious cruell death! O greedy grave!
A mbitious ſtill the ſweeteſt blood to have;
V ain's thy aſſauit, th'aſt here but loſt thy ſting,
A nd now among the juſt his ſpirit ſhall ſing.
S ure thou'rt deceiv'd, this partial victory,
O re fleſh and bones; the holy ſoul made free.
R eleas'd at once from fleſh, and priſon too,
P owells diſcharg'd; which Power refus'd to doe.
O kind and friendly ſtroak! what death kind grown;
W ell was it ſaid, and true! even deaths our own.
E re long, how he eſcapt, his judge will trie,
Life, ſuckt by long confinement, makes a cry.
Vile age, the vertuous ones thus to ſuppreſs,
Promoting vice on high and wickedneſs.
A Threnetick for Sion: 2 Elegy in 12 Odes.
1.
But ſtay what's this? ſomething's amiſs,
About this guilty City,
Hark what a cry, ecchoes on high,
Which few hear, fewer pitty.
2.
The voyce is Sions, among the Lyons,
And in the Leopards Denns,
Alas ſhhe cryes, where ſhall my eyes
From tears be wip't, and when?
3.
My ſighs and ſorrows, by tears plough Furrows
Upon my face; it grieves,
That widdows ſcorn, muſt thus be born,
VVhilſt yet my husband lives.
4.
At once affected, and yet rejected;
VVhat bought and ſold again?
By bloud once ſav'd, yet now inſlav'd
To fierce and bloudy men?
5.
Ah what's the reaſon (in ſuch a ſeaſon)
Of hopes of prayers and tears?
Our lights ſo miſted, and bands ſo twiſted,
And yet, loe greater fears.
6.
That Turtle Dove, Chriſts only love,
O're flames hangs in ſuſpenſe,
My ſons deceaſe, and griefs increaſe,
Gods anger's more intenſe.
7.
My helps are gone, and now I've none
To take me by the hand,
The beſt are taken, the reſt be ſhaken,
O't puts my loyns t' a ſtand.
8.
Sure 't bodes a ſtroak, if God revoke
Embaſſadors of peace:
Our days ſoon end, if to contend
His ſpirit (our lights) muſt ceaſe.
9.
Ah dying Nation! watchmen their ſtation
Muſt leave and warn no more;
This is the ſting that wrath will bring,
Thy judgments at the door.
10.
Thy Bartholmew, cold ſweat, adiew,
VVinters approach impart
How faſt thy day poſteth away,
O't ſtrikes me to the heart.
11.
But yet is hope, if God with ſope
Thus waſh our ſpots and bloud,
Light will return, droſs only burn,
All this is for our good.
12.
Though Jacobs glory be tranſitory,
Though thin and lean his fleſh,
Yet from his Urne, there ſhall return
A roſe more ſweet and freſh.
3 Elogy is V. P. Encomium, or Character.
BY ſtock he was of Welſh deſcent,
In ſtature mean, yet meek, content.
In holy tongues, and learning, he
Commenc'd to very great degree;
Some 30 years to Chriſt eſtrang'd,
And then by grace was call'd and chang'd;
He labour'd in Chriſts Miniſtry,
And many a ſoul thereby ſet free,
A learned Tongue and skill he had
To ſpeak for Chriſt, to good, and bad:
Though to die childleſs 'twas his Lot,
To Chriſt he many a ſoul begot:
His parts were quick, yet lowly minded
With vain applauſe not ſwell'd or winded;
A man of ſorrows, prayers, and tears,
Long ſuff'ring under wrongs and jears;
Moſt apt and ready to forget,
Affronts, aſſaults, many and great;
His labours in his Goſpel ſtation,
Found univerſal acceptation.
And though of ſuch we 'ave got ſo many,
He might as ill be ſpar'd as any.
Failings he had, but where is he,
From more and greater, that is free
His bonds beſpoke him, fully known,
At utter odds with Nimrods Throne;
He lay confin'd, the Oath about,
Till Angels came to fetch him out.
In's ſickneſs (though't gave little reſt)
His witneſs (even at laſt) was beſt.
He hated both the beaſt and whore,
To's death (as through his life before)
His glaſs was run, his bonds death breaks,
And yet behold (though dead) he ſpeaks,
In 1000 that his grave attended, mind
What Epitaph he left ingrav'd behind.
He liv'd deſir'd, and dy'd lamented,
Death him requir'd, his bonds prevented.
Per J: M.
An Epitaph upon that faithful Miniſter, and eminent Confeſſor of Jeſus Chriſt, Mr. V. P. VAVASOR POWELL.
Lyes here enterred who was a ſucceſsful T… cher of the Paſt; A ſincere witneſs in the Preſent; A choyce example to Future ages. F… which he being called to ſeveral priſons, was their tryed and found faithful, would not accept Deliverance, expecting a better Reſurrection, in hope of which, he finiſhed his Life and Teſtimony together, in the 11 year of his Impriſonment, and in the 53 of his Age, Octob. 27. 1670.
In vain oppreſſors do themſelves perplex,
To find out acts how they the Saints may vex
Death ſpoyles their plots, and ſets the oppreſſed free,
Thus Vavaſor obtain'd true liberty,
Chriſt him releaſed and now he is joynd among,
The Martyred ſouls, with whom he cryes how long?
Dan. 12.13.
FINIS.