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Ah! my dear brother Covell, art thou gone?
Hast thou forsaken earth for worlds unknown?
And hast thou found those mansions, far above,
Where every bosom glows with sacred love?
And hast thou found the disembodied throng,
To sound thy harp in their triumphant song?
And dost thou, now, with angels vie in praise,
And sweep the golden harp, in high seraphic lays?
Is Jesus in thy view? dost thou behold

His sacred head, adorned with radiant gold?
Doth he appear as lovely in their eyes,
As revelation saith, as faith descries?

Yes, thou art gone—thy better part is fled—

Thy body only is among the dead.

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Strengthen the feeble, and relieve the oppress'd;
Should Covell's soul appear us to-day,

And fill this desk instead of worthless me,
How would the people feel to hear him tell

The joys of heaven and awful pains of hell!
Fancy conjectures, should he come to preach,
He'd deal a double portion out to each.

As spirits cannot speak without the help of clay,
I'll lend him my mortal tongue to-day;

Then hark! and hear what Covell has to say:
"My wife! the partner of my former bed,

Our conjugal enjoyments now are dead;
We bound ourselves for life, but life is gone;
Those who had wives are now as tho' they'd none.
Fleshly connections never can abide
Within these mansions where I now reside;
Yet friendship dear, and fellowship divine,
Are heavenly things which never can decline.

"O Clarissa! weep not for me—'tis vain;
My face you never will behold again.
A widow's hardships you must bear awhile,
Expos'd to injury, distress, and toil,

Always remember what the Lord hath said;
I'll be the widow's God, the orphan's aid ;'
Trust in his word; he never spoke in vain;
He'll guide and guard you thro' this world of pain;
Then, in full glory you shall live and reign.

"My first-born, Deidamia, hear your father's voice;
In youthful days, oh, make the Lord your choice.
All things beneath the burning sun are vain;
But Christ is life, and heaven is boundless gain.
Repent of sin, believe in gospel grace,
Then when you die, you'll see your father's face.
"Sally, my lovely Sally, you must die;
Let youthful charms give way to piety.
Tho' I am dead, like Abel now I speak;
O fall, like Mary, at your Savior's feet,
For sinners Jesus bore exquisite pain;—
Let not his blood be spilt for you in vain.

"Cordelia, know thy father loves thee still,
Though, cheerfully resigned to the Almighty's will,
My station now forbids all earthly care,
To feed your body, or your dress repair;

Yet one grave warning I am sent to give,—

Look at your Savior, and your soul shall live.

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Julia, my youngest daughter, charming child,

Be not, by wicked customs e'er beguil'd.
The virtuous pattern; let the virtuous throng
Govern your passions, and command your tongue.
Regard your mother; still her counsels hear;
Keep from her eyes the patent's painful tear.
"Alanson, my son, my lovely, only son,
Farewell my babe, thy father's glass is run;
Whose hand may guide you, what your lot may be,

Is only known to the great Deity.

Know then, thy father's God, my son, in youth;

Receive the Savior; trust the word of truth;

Out of the mouth of babes, God can ordain
Surprising strength to stop the mouths of men.*

"Brethren and neighbors, when I left the town,

I little thought I never should return;

But God, who governs all things, did ordain

That you and I should never meet again,

Till time shall be no more, and Christ shall come to reign."
Thus far my Covell speaks, with Leland's tongue;

Now Leland speaks with sentiments his own.

The child here alluded to, an infant at the time of his father's decease, became afterwards a preacher, at the age of 21, and died, seemingly in the midst of usefulness, at the early age of 33.

Brethren, the preacher of your choice is dead;
His soul from earth and earthly things has fled,
And the cold ground has now become his bed.
Alas! what shall poor weeping Zion do?
Zion, whose foes are many, friends are few?
The sadness of your hearts your eyes betray,
You weep as Jesus did o'er Lazarus' clay,
And say our friend and pastor's called away.'
But let not funeral tears alone be shed;
Mourn for your sins as for a brother dead:
Mourn for your sins which have provoked your God
To send this token of his vengeful rod.

Cheer up! ye saints, the blissful Jesus knows
What's best for you, and that his hand bestows;
Though prophets die, and fathers dwell in dust,
He will preserve the souls who in him trust.



Come old, come young, and hear me relate
My life and adventures, and my present state;
I pray you all give ear, to what you now shall hear,
For my story will pleasure and sorrow create.

My childhood and youth in vanity I spent,
Regardless of truth, and to folly intent,

For more than eighteen years, I shed no mourning tears,
But pleaded for my sins, and refused to relent.

Inflexibly hard, and impenetrably blind,
The pleasures of sense bewildered my mind;
To me it did appear, God's law was too severe,—
To the cross of the gospel I was not inclined.

But oh! that love—the love of God to man,—
That everlasting love, that drew the saving plan,
That love pursued my soul, when I was sick and foul,
Too great to resist, and too strong to withstand.

Sin then appeared vile,—the law appeared right,
And justice and grace and holiness shone bright;

The word of God was true, and lovely to my view,
But a pardon for sin was out of my sight.

I languished and mourned, how long I cannot tell,

I saw God was just, if he sent me to hell,

My heart was dreadful hard, and the door of grace seemed barred,

And my soul with the devil forever must dwell.

*Written about the year 1807.

The way of salvation thro' Christ I did spy,
How God could be just and his law magnify,
And yet bestow his grace on sinful Adam's race,
But those blessings, I feared, were not for such as I.

But when all my hopes had nearly fled away,
And hell from beneath was gaping for its prey,
My Saviour did appear to dissipate my fear,
And washed all my sins in a moment away.

What freedom I felt, what joy I did receive!-'Twas easy to repent—'twas easy to believe ;— I freely gave him all, and at his feet did fall,

And the glory—all glory to him I did give.

His voice then I heard, in sweet majestic sound,

"I've loved you--I've sought you, and closed up your wound, I've a work for you to do—be faithful, just and true,

And proclaim to the world what a Saviour you've found."

Not money nor fame, did e'er send me forth,
But love to his name, and love to his truth.
I girt my armor on, and ventured forth alone,
Trusting only in God to preserve me a youth.

O'er mountains and waters, as duty led me on,

Through snow storms and tempests, and hot burning sun, I ran with all my might, and labored day and night, To proclaim a dear Saviour to sinners undone.

But little have I done, but what was done wrong, Revivals have been short, and apostacies been long, After six and thirty years, I am greatly in arrears,

And have nothing to plead but pardoning love alone.

And now I'm growing old, my powers all decay,
I wander and grovel, and stumble in the way,
My sun is going down, my work is almost done,
I yield up my life, and return to my clay.




Who died at Cheshire, on Lord's day, the 21st of Feb. 1808. The funeral was attended the Wednesday following by a large assembly of people. An appropriate discourse was delivered on the occasion, from Acts xiii. 36, 37, by the Rev. John Leland; at the close of which, the following lines were exhibited :—

Howl, fir tree, for the cedar is fallen!

Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth; for the righteous is taken away from among


My father, my father, the chariots of Israel and the horsemen thereof. Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.

Elder Werden was born June 6th, 1728, and ordained to the work of the ministry, at Warwick, Rhode Island, May, 1751, in the 24th year of

his age.

When he first began to preach, he was too much of a New-light, and too strongly attached to the doctrine of salvation by sovereign grace, to be generally received among the old Baptist churches in Rhode Island, which had been formed partly upon the Armenian plan, until the following event opened the door for him. A criminal, by the name of Carter, was executed at Tower Hill. This occasion collected abundance of people from all parts of the state. While the criminal stood under the gallows, young Werden felt such a concern for his soul, that he urged his way through the crowd; and being assisted by the sheriff, he gained access to Carter, and addressed him as follows :— Sir, is your soul prepared for that awful eternity, into which you will launch in a few minutes ?" The criminal replied, "I don't know that it is, but I wish you would pray for me." In this prayer, Mr. Werden was so wonderfully assisted in spreading the poor man's case before the throne of God, that the whole assembly were aw. fully solemnized, and most of them wet their cheeks with their tears. This opened a great door for his ministrations, both on the Main and on the Island.

He preached at Warwick, Coventry, and many other places with good success, about nineteen years, and then moved, in 1770, into this place, where he has lived and administered almost thirty-eight years.

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