On the much Lamented DEATH of the Reverend Mr. Noadiah Russel, Late Pastor of the Church of CHRIST in Middletown, who had his Clayey Tabernacle Dissolved and his Mortality Swallowed up of Life, December 3d. 1713. Aetatis Suae, 55.
DID
Israel
Mourn when holy
Sam'el
died?
Or when, they of their
Aaron
were deprived?
When
Saul
was slain, and when, great
Abner
fell
A hearty grief that Monarchs Tears did tell.
Elisha
dying, Wicked
Jo
••
Cry's,
Whom once
〈◊〉
Slighted now to late does Prize
Both
Isr'else
Sons and the
Egyptians
Fierce
With Ecchoing Moans did follow
Jacob's
Hearse.
And shall sweet RUSSEL unlamented Die?
Twould speak we are Sick of deepest Apathy;
Ay! worse than Brutes, more Stupid far away
Who howl & moan when Mates become a Prey.
Let cease our Joy, and
•
ables only wear,
Let naught but Sighs of dismal Grief appear.
Come all his Flock, his Household Brethren too,
Ye Priests of GOD Enfeebled by this Blow.
Oh come from every Place, come Join in One
Our Grief conjoined, will make the louder Moan
Forbear a Smile, let Tears stand in all Eyes
Come wet his Grave, and fill the Air with Cries
In broken, sobbing Notes, let us set forth,
Our Heavy, Heavy Loss, his Golden worth.
The Task's too Great and far out bids my Skill
I fear toeclipse in showing my good will;
His Shining Merit, and to wound his Name
Mounted long since, on spreading Wings of Fame.
His Name is Precious and his Memory,
Perfum'd shall last, unto Eternity.
His small Remains locked-up, unmade must be
But rise e're long, and Glorious stand, you will see.
Belov'd of all but slighters of whats rare.
Virtue's a Crime, with such as haters were.
Not without woes, but from base Vices free,
In World Corrupt, untouched, untainted he:
Like healthy Body's in Contagious air
Or Fish that fresh, whose livings in salt
〈◊〉
are.
His Virtue's rare, in this our Cloudy Night,
As Stars, in azure Sky, they shined most bright
Methinks as
A'ron,
in his Sacred Dress,
So RUSSEL's Soul adorned with Grace no less.
His Speech was sweet, & Aspect well might win,
But greater, Richer Beauty, lay within.
His Head with Learning, Prudence, Holy Art,
Firm Faith & Love, Humility his Heart,
Peaceful & Meek, but yet, with Courage Stout,
Engag'd the Fiend, and did him sorely Rout.
From
David'
s Tow'r with Armor bright supplied
Both Shield & Sword, Helmet & Brestplate wide
Th envenom'd Darts, he bravely did Repel,
With full strength shot, from Fury's fierce of Hell.
To needless strife a Foe, yet ready Stood,
To spend for
Christ,
his
Name
his
Strength
〈◊〉
Blood,
Lightned by
CHRIST,
a fixed shining Star.
Keeping strait course, gave
warmth
&
guidance rare
A Pregnant Cloud & Fruitful Showers Yielding,
Softening Hearts most Hard; & yet most Cooling
To Conscience Scorched, with
God's
dismal wrath,
Producing hope, of what is somewhat worth.
Skill'd was he in his work & Painful too,
Souls to beget & then to make them grow.
Oh! with what skill did he GOD's Word divide;
'Twas first unvail'd & then with warmth applied
He dealt to each with care his Portion due,
Dread Woes to some to others Comforts new.
Unto
Christ's
Lambs he was a tender Nurse
But smartly Scourg'd all such as still grew worse
He
Preach'd,
he
Pray'd,
he
Watch'd,
he
Wept,
& why?
His Love to
Christ,
and fears lest Souls would dy.
But we are deprived & now too soon we see
His greater Worth, Augments our Misery.
Our swelling Joys are ebb'd & now we stand
Parch'd like the
〈◊〉
as the day
Africa
sand.
Methinks as when the hasty setting Sun,
Makes glad the
East
it leaves the
West
Undone,
So, Joy'd were Saints above, when he came in,
But left are we, midst Woes, Darkness & Sin.
Oh
Ra
••
else
dead (blest Saint) thus we are undone,
Our town is fallen and our Beauty
•
s gone.
We
〈◊〉
lost our
Pastor
& our
Patron
dear,
Our strongest
Chariots
& our
Horsemen
rare:
Our Feet will wander & our Souls must starve,
There's none to
guide,
nor
Bread
when as we crave,
That can it break, though' once we had good fare
Of Bread most fat, & Dainty's that were rare
Surpriz'd with Ill, no
Watchman
to descry,
God's
Angel great & Judgments when they are nigh.
Now
Hell
will shout, &
Sinners
will grow bold
Young Seekers faint & Saints themselves wax cold.
The
Wall
is broke, & now the
Cursed
Foe
Of Souls, more fierce & sedulous will grow
With doubled force & more his Game anew
Our Leader' dead, unwearied will pursue.
Mourn do our
Zion's ways,
our Lord's-days sad,
God's sacred House where frequent we have had
Our Souls, refreshed & filled with Joy that's true,
There are we sad & sinking griefs renew.
Thus into darkness, I am brought, & left,
I am Naked made, of Treasure rich bereft,
In Ashes rolled with bitterness I am filled
I am plunged in the' deep, yet tis what he has willed.
Shew me the Sin that yields such smart as this,
Oh make me grieve for what's in me amiss
Lord pity me, & stanch my Bleeding Wound
Repair my Loss, Oh! make me Whole & Sound.
On the same Sorrowful occasion.
NO Gifts of Nature, Art or Grace
Where Death's Subpoena's issu'd out,
Exempteth from the Burying Place;
The so inlay'd, and most Devout
NO'DIAH could have pleaded those,
Had they been of Validity:
But when Death comes with us to close,
Alas, what do they Signify?
True Grace indeed it does Avail,
For those endowed there withal,
That th' Second Death has no Entail
On them; and yet their Bodies fall,
Into the Prison of the Grave,
Until the Goal-delivery thence;
They in that Dormitory have
A sweet Repose, and have no sense
Of all the Worms and Rottenness
Which there Triumph and make a Prey.
Of their Vile Bodies they Possess
Until the Resurrection Day;
When they will off those Vermins shake
And in a new and bright Array,
Their Ascent to the Skies will make,
Where CHRIST his Glory shall Display.
NO'DIAH then will wear a Crown,
At our JESUS Right Hand placed,
Will Contribute to the Renown
Where with that Juncture shall be graced.
EPITAPH.
N
O'DIAH RUSSEL
here's Interr'd.
Of him it truly is aver'd,
A Still, yet Powerful Preacher he,
And from the Pulpit heard should be
Sounding this Whisper, that all must
As he, go to a Bed of Dust.
And therefore should an House provide
Where their Dislodged Souls reside,
As his may; Cloath'd with Heav'nly Bliss;
Nor of Eternal Glory miss.
AN ACROSTICK.
N ow he's admitted to Celestial Joys,
O ut of Earths grief's, and World's disturbing noise;
A nd all his Works, him follow shall, though' he,
D oth rest in's Grave, from those his Labors free;
I n which his body sleeps till th' dreadful Day,
A nd final Trumpets sound, then must obey;
H ave Glorious shining shall his risen Clay.
R Emaining whilst his body's here, in the' dust
U nto the perfect Spirits, of the Just,
S hall be received, (with Glory raised) his Soul;
S o abides, till Heaven's Rolled, as a Scroll;
E njoying things, unthought, unheard, unseen,
L ay'd up for those, of GOD, who've Lovers been.