The life and death of Mr. Vavasor Powell, that faithful minister and confessor of Jesus Christ wherein his eminient conversion, laborious successful ministry, excellent conversation, confession of faith, worthy sayings, choice experiences, various sufferings, and other remarkable passages in his life and at his death are faithfully recorded for publick benefit : with some elogies and epitaphs by his friends.

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 Labo∣rious Servant of Jesus Christ in the Work of the Gospel, Vavasor Powell, who died the 27 of the 8 moneth, 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 Testimo∣ny 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 moneth, 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 e∣minent 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 Pre∣sent; A choyce example to Future ages. F•••• which he being called to several prisons, was their tryed and found faithful, would not ac∣cept Deliverance, expecting a better Resurre∣ction, 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.