and emaciated, by their half allowance, and green corn. We returned near to the garrison at Cayuga; the garrison came out to meet us. The next day, we had a great feast in the garrison, and then arranged matters for our return to Easton. But here, I must not forget to mention a circumstance, peculiarly pleasing to me. Two or three young soldiers were under great distress of mind concerning their souls, and frequently, came to see and converse with me. I mentioned a text to General Sullivan, which frequently occurred to me when I thought of the Indians, and the devastations which were made in their country. The text was: "They shall walk through them, be an hungry, and curse their God and their King, and took upwards." The General intended to have a sermon when we arrived at Easton, and wished me to preach from these words just mentioned. But, when we arrived at Easton, I found there was another Chaplain who had made preparations to preach a sermon, I therefore gave him the opportunity.
I obtained a furlough, to visit and tarry some time with my family. While here, I received a letter from the Baptist church in Philadelphia, requesting me to come and supply them. I shewed the letter to General Clinton, who granted me leave to pay them a visit for two or three weeks. I informed the church, that I was not discharged from the army, neither did I wish to engage myself to any people. For if, in the providence of God, the enemy should be driven from New-York, I intended to collect my scattered church, and to settle myself in that place. I therefore wished them to look for a supply elsewhere. While in Philadelphia, I had a severe turn of the cholic, which detained me from the army several days longer than I intended to have staid. That winter we encamped near Newbury, and my family lived at Warwick: as the distance was not great, I had the privilege of being more at home that winter, than at any time since the commencement of the war; and it was a providential circumstance, as the winter proved extremely severe, and my family needed all the assistance I could give them.
The operations of the enemy at this time, were principally at the southward, where General Gates and the southern militia, opposed them with no very great success. General Gates, after his defeat, was suceeded by General Green, which gave new life, and vigour to the militia. About this time, General Washington collected his army in the neighbourhood of the British, at New-Jersey. This excited the wonder of everybody. Does he intend to make a forcible attack on the British in New-York? was the general question. Neither did the enemy understand his movements. General Washington, had large ovens erected, which confirmed the opinion of his intended operation, against the enemy at and about New-York.
The period now arrived, of a forced march of the combined army of French and Americans; to Williamsburgh, in Virginia. They marched through New-Jersey and Pennsylvania, into Virginia; and came in the rear of Lord Cornwallis, the same day that the French fleet, arrived and blockaded the British, at
Gloucester Point. After a short siege, in which the whole British force in that quarter was reduced, General Washington moved his army. This movement was so sudden and unexpected to me, that I was totally unprepared for it. I had with me only one shift of linen, of which I informed General Clinton, requesting leave of absence to get more; but to this he objected, and said I must go on with them, at all events. When we arriveed at Newark, I found an old lady, who had been a member of my church in New-York. I told her my situation, and she furnished me with what was needful for the campaign. From Newark, we marched to Baltimore. There General Clinton's Aid was taken sick, and I was ordered to stay with him, till he was able to come after the army. The Major's anxiety to follow the army, retarded his recovery. However, he attempted and set out; but after one or two days, he was obliged to lay by. In a day or two we set off again, but did not reach the army before the British capitulated. However, we partook of the joy with our brethren.
Matters being adjusted, the General ordered the return of the army. On my way home, I stoped [sic] at Mr. Hart's, in Hopewell, in New-Jersey, and, after staying there one night, started for home. Between Hopewell, and the Piscataqua, I met a messenger from Scotch Plains, who informed me, he was going to get Mr. Hart, to preach a funeral sermon on the death of Mr. Miller, who was to be buried the next day; unless I would stop and preach it. I told him, I would stop, but that he had better get Mr. Hart to preach the sermon. He went on, and informed Mr. Hart of what had passed: Mr. Hart said he wished to be excused. The duty then devolved on me; one circumstance made it very striking to me: It had been a private agreement between Mr. Miller myself, that the survivor of us, if he had word of the death, should preach the funeral sermon of the other. Never did I esteem a ministering brother so much, or feel the bereavement so sensibly, as I did Mr. Milter. - At the funeral, I got information, that my, family had moved; which was a day's ride less
distant. I set off for home, and found them well, and an addition of another son, whose name was William.
On my return to the army, we encamped at Newbury, and erected some huts, and a place for public worship, on Lord's days. We had three services a day, and preached in rotation; one from each brigade. We continued here during the winter, and had frequent reports, that the British were negociating a peace, which occasioned expresses being sent to and from the British General at New-York, and General Washington. The next spring, the British evacuated New-York; and General Washington entered the city with his army. The army was soon after disbanded, and we poor ruined Yorkers returned to our disfigured-houses.
My house needed some repairs, and wanted some new furniture; for the enemy plundered a great many articles. We collected of our church, about thirty seven members, out of upwards of two hundred. Some were
dead, and others scattered into almost every part of the union. Some had turned formers; but the most of these returned to the city. The Lord looked graciously upon us: we soon had a large congregation, numbers were sensibly convicted, and many were brought to bow the knee to king Jesus.
There was an application made to the association, for a minister to travel as a missionary, for one year; and to make him some allowance from the association fund. I had some intimation of this application before I went to the association; and proposed it to my church, that if I was pitched upon as the person, whether they would consent. They agreed to it. My church was, at this time, in a very flourishing condition: daily additions were making to our number. At one communion season, there were near forty young persons added; about an equal number ef each sex. We had meetings constantly, for fhe purpose of conversing, singing and praying; which proved very beneficial, and which was kept up for years, and even, till my removal
to Kentucky, before which time, our number of communicants in the church exceeded two hundred.
The reason of my removal to Kentucky, I shall here state. One Mr. William Wood, came from that country, and gave a very exalted character of the state of it. He made several encouraging proposals to me to go there, said there was a prospect of usefulness in the ministry, the necessity of an old experienced minister to take care of a young church there, and flattering temporal prospects for the support of my family. For these reason I concluded to remove. Besides, I was considerably in debt, and saw no way of being released, but by selling my house and lot. This I concluded would clear me, and enable me to purchase waggons and horses to carry me to Kentucky. I called a church meeting, and informed them of my intention. They treated it as a chimera, and thought they could stop me by raising my salary. They, with all possible coolness, left me to determine for myself. I, immediately, determined
to go, and desired them to look out for a supply. This aroused them, and they very affectionately urged me to tarry. I told them, if they had desired me to stay before I had put it out of my own power, I should then have given it up.
I sold my estate, and commenced my journey for Kentucky. I encountered more difficulties than I had calculated for. In going down the Ohio river, one of my boats unfortunately overset, and turned every thing into the river. They who were in her, narrowly escaped, by cutting the ropes which tied the horses, so that neither man nor beast were lost. But I lost some very valuable property, which I never could replace. I also lost all the provender for my horses, which at that time was a very serious misfortune. However, as there were others in company from New-Jersey, and of my acquaintance, I was amply supplied with that necessary article. We landed at Limestone, on the 17th of June, A. D. 1787; and soon after set out for Washington, in Kentucky,
where I safely arrived. I here preached to my companions and the inhabitants, from these words; "So we got all safe to land."
Mr. Wood, on my arrival, took me into his own house. The news of my arrival soon spread to Lexington; and Mr. Ambrose Dudley, and Mr. John Craig, came to see me, and urged me to visit Lexington, and preach. I went to Lexington, South Elkhorn, and Clear Creek, &c. and after tarrying a few days, I returned home. Soon after my return, I received a letter from Lexington, inviting me to remove among them, and enclosing proposals of what they would allow me. I also received another letter, of the same import, from Brother Elijah Craig, of Georgetown. I soon after moved my family to Lexington; and hired a house of Mr. Robert Parker, where we lived a twelve month. While here, I received a proposal of land from Brother Elijah Craig, with an invitation to come and see it. I went, and liked the land, but not the conditions. I, however, wished for a little time to consider of it; and I set the day I would give
him an answer. Two days before the time came, while I was walking in the garden, General Wilkinson came to me and asked me, if I had fully determined where to settle. I told him, I had not; and that I then had but one day to consider of Mr. Craig's proposal. He said he came to make me proposals to go to Frankfort; and wished me to go with him and see the plan of a town, which was in the hands of my son Daniel, at Frankfort. I went and was much pleased, and closed an agreement with him, that I would remove there, as soon as I could make it convenient.
My wife, in going to visit this place, had the misfortune to fall from her horse, which made her a cripple the remainder of her life. She was, soon after, seized with the pleurisy, which terminated her existence, after languishing a short time. We had but just got settled in our new habitation, when she was seized with the disorder; and happy for her, I trust, she soon removed to that building of God, a "house not made with hands, Eternal in the heavens," to which she appeared resigned,
and for which I hope, by the grace of God, she was prepared. But alas! I was too unprepared for such a shock. In all her lameness, I had her cheering company and, conversation, and was enlivened by a hope of her recovery. But when this fatal stroke was given, I was bereft of all consolation, and 1 had not the word and power of God sustained me through it, I must have sunk beneath the stroke.
The next fall I received a letter from a friend in North-Carolina, with whom I had intrusted my little concerns there, informing me, that the man to whom I had sold my land, refused payment, alleging that I had sold him more than I ever had a title to. This was both injurious to my purse and character; and led me to look over my old papers. I found the deed and the necessary papers; the deed was properly authenticated, and acknowledged and recorded in Rowan, where the land lay. I determined to go and settle the business; and, accordingly, set off, and after a fatigueing journey arrived there. I got
the county surveyor, and having traced part of the line, he found it would take in part of land which he claimed and occupied, and a spring which his family used; he, therefore, begged me to desist, and said he would settle the matter without any further difficulty. I could have put him to much trouble and expence; but having my object answered, I settled the matter with him.
Here I found and obtained another companion. She was the widow of Captain Thomas Bryant, and daughter of Colonel Jonathan Hunt. She was a communicant in a Baptist church in that neighbourhood. As she could not adjust her matters, so as to go immediately, with me, to Kentucky, I went to Charleston, in South-Carolina, where I had formerly visited. Here, I was pleased to find many remaining evidences of the fruits of my former labours. I tarried here, upwards of three weeks, at the house of Mr. Richard Furman. As Mr. Furman was about to take a short journey, he requested me to take charge of his church during his absence, which I did. From here, I went
farther Southward, and after an absence of nine weeks and three days, I returned to my wife. I visited an association while here, and found many difficulties among them. The idea of having a moderator, was considered as dishonouring Christ. Their requesting liberty of the moderator for every thing which they wished to do, was considered as too conformable to the custom of worldly assemblies, and an infringement of Christian liberties. But, after much altercation on these points, they agreed to them; and the association was conducted with much decorum.
The September following, I returned to Kentucky; but without Mrs. Gano, as she was not then ready to remove. The next spring I went to North-Carolina, but found it would, be inconvenient for my wife to remove before fall; I therefore made a visit to New-York and Rhode-Island, accompanied by my wife's son, Morgan Bryant. My old friends were much pleased to see me; and I arrived back again, by the time my wife had appointed to go to Kentucky. I
preached at many places in my tour to New-England; particularly, in New-Brunswick, where I preached twice to very crowded assemblies. On my return to Kentucky, I preached at Philadelphia, and many places in the states of Maryland and Virginia, agreeable to appointments I had made, four or five months previously. We started for Kentucky, on the 30th of September, 1794, and arrived safely without any thing material taking place. On my return, I found the family all well; and that a report of my son William being drowned, which I heard while in Carolina, was without foundation. Here a new scene opened. My wife, saw children that had families, whom she never saw before; and my children, saw a mother whom they had no knowledge of. This, I believe, made them feel mutually awkward.
The Town-Fork church, of which I was a member, and whose meetings I endeavoured constantly to attend, had been highly favoured, during my absence, by the neighbouring ministers, especially, Mr. Dudly, who
had generally attended their church meetings and had administered at their communion seasons. The church meeting was frequently held at Frankfort, though there was no settled church there of any denomination. Mr. Hickman had frequently preached in the assembly room of the state house; and Mr. Shannon, a Presbyterian minister, had given some encouragement, that he would preach there some part of his time. I agreed to supply them every first and third sabbath in the month; and Mr. Shannon the remainder. I supplied them, in this way, through the winter; and also the church at Town Fork, which kept me constantly employed; for the distance between the two places was nearly twenty miles.
Several of the members of the Town Fork church, frequently expressed to me their wishes, to have me live nearer to them; and finally carried it to the church. I thought it my duty to make the reply, that it was out of my power to procure a settlement among them; but if they could devise any method
to render it possible, I had no objections to try it. Accordingly, they appointed one or two men to inquire, and see what could be done. In the mean time Mr. Lewis offered me a small place of about thirty acres, the greatest part of which was cleared. He proposed giving me a lease of it, during my life, provided I lived there; which was to be his proportion towards my support. I concluded to except [sic] this offer; and, accordingly, in March 1796, I moved there, and continued for two years, but found it very inconvenient. We had no stable for the cattle, and but a small house, hardly sufficient to contain our family. I had no means of making my accommodations better, except I sold my property at Frankfort. This I did not wish to do, as I had but a life lease of it. I thought, if I returned to Frankfort, and sold part of my property, and expended the proceeds of the sale on the remainder, it would be preparing a more comfortable home for my family, and which would not terminate at my death. Accordingly, in the spring of the year 1798, I returned to Frankfort, said erected
a comfortable log house, which I was prevented from entirely finishing by the cold weather's setting in. In October, of that year, I had the misfortune to fall from a horse, and fracture my shoulder-blade; which rendered that arm useless, for some time. Soon after this misfortune, I was seized, in my bed one morning, very suddenly, with a paralytic stroke, which affected the whole of one side of me, one ear, an eye and half of my face, and rendered me almost speechless. This remained for about ten months, when I partially recovered. I have now, abundant cause to sing of the mercies and goodness of the Lord, that during all this illness, my reason was as good as ever it was. I, even at this time, am more or less afflicted with it; but I have rode on horse back, riding but a few miles in a day. I have preached several times at Frankfort, setting [sic] in a chair.
In the spring of the year 1798, I preached on Lord's day in the assembly room of the state house. My son Stephen, who lives in Providence, (Rhode Island), this year paid me
a visit, but did not stay long. He went to Cincinnati, (Ohio), to see his brother John. My youngest son William, was then a clerk in my son John's Prothonotary Office. He was anxious to have a collegiate education; and his two brother's encouraged him in it. He, accordingly, with his brother Stephen, came over to consult me upon it, and I consented. They started for Rhode Island, and went by the way of Cincinnati, and I accompanied them as far as my son Richard's, at Eagle Creek. Here I took my last leave of my son William, who appeared much affected, and, afterwards, said he had taken his last farewell of his Father. They proceeded on their journey and proposed visiting Doctor Thane, whose wife was sister to him. The dear youth reached them, sick with a fever, of which he soon after died. He died, resigned to his fate, and in hopes of a blessed immortality; as I afterwards learnt by letter from my son Stephen. Though his death much affected me, yet when I heard he died resigned, it appeared to me that it was all right; and that God had done all things well.
My sincere wish is, that all my children may live, 'till they are prepared to die; aud that my prayers may be redoubled for them, knowing that ere long, both they and myself, must quit this stage of action, and go to judgment. I see now, nothing worth living for; but to be more devoted to God, and the advantage of my family, and the church of God. And, indeed it appears to me latterly, that I have lived beyond my usefulness; but I know I must wait for God's time, when he will unravel all the mysteries of his Providence. I sometimes wonder, why God ever conducted me to Kentucky, when so little fruit or good effect of my poor labours have appeared, at least to myself! why, in this half dead condition, I am yet continued in life! Yet, I have more cause to wonder, that ever God made me instrumental of good, at any time of life, or any where in the world; and that now I should be laid by, as an instrument out of use.
Thus far the narrative is written by Mr. Gano himself. An account of the remaining
days of this godly man, is compiled from the documents of his son Daniel.
In September of the year 1798, Mr. Gano fell from his horse and broke his shoulder blade, of which he so far recovered, as to attend the succeeding session of the assembly; but which, it is probable, was the cause of the paralytic stroke, as mentioned by him in the pages preceding. This visitation of Divine Providence, he sustained with holy fortitude and composure. Although, this continued with him till his death, yet he preached several times supported in his bed; and attended every association, except one, until his death. During his last illness, he frequently talked to his wife of the approach of death, with the greatest composure; and often requested his friends not to shed a tear for him, for he should arrive at home.
About three months previous to his death, he requested his wife to sing the hymn, "Ah lovely appearance of death;" which he also requested might be sung at his funeral;
which was done by his wife and daughter, under extreme affliction. On Saturday evening, he performed family worship; and on Lord's day morning, after hearing a chapter read for that purpose, he was taken very ill, and conveyed to bed. On the Wednesday night following, he was seized with convulsion fits; and on Thursday night about ten o'clock, August 10, 1804, the spirit of this godly man, winged its way to the mansion of peace.
About eight weeks previous to his departure, he informed his wife, that he had the following dream, viz, "That he saw the state of a departed spirit; and had a clearer view of it than he ever had before in all his reflections upon it. That he was taken sick, unto death, and saw his wife, children, and friends around him, which was very gratifying. He felt himself struck with death, and began to stiffen; - his hearing and eye-sight go from him, and felt himself die; but that the body knew nothing of this. The spirit, hovered over the coffin, until the corps was
carried to the grave; and the family had taken their leave. When the coffin was let down, some obstructions occurred," (which was the case owing to the grave being dug too near that of his first wife,) "the spirit took its flight to the abode of never ending happiness."
The following account of the last days of Mr. Gano, is taken from a letter to one of his children, written by Mr. William Hickman, who was much with, and esteemed by Mr. Gano. The letter, I believe, is nearly, verbatim. Mr. Hickman observes: "that hearing Mr. Gano had a paralytic shock, he immediately went to see him, and asked him how he did? He answered that he was half dead. I did not then believe he would ever have come out of his house, again, alive. He seemed willing to resign all to God, and to bear what he was pleased to lay on him; wishing the prayers of God's people, and that the travelling preachers would call, converse and preach. At such times, which frequently occurred, he would sit in his chair and exhort to duty, and to flee from vice.
His longing, to get amongst his brethren, so raised his spirits, that in about a year, he ventured, in a carriage, to the Town-Fork, Bryants, and other places. When we apprehended his fatigues were too great, while preaching, some friend would support him, when he would preach with renewed ardour.
It was the pleasure of heaven, about this time to visit the state with the out-pouring of his spirit. This blessed harvest of souls, appeared to increase his joys, being desirous of being, as in years past, in the vineyard, although his half dead side forbid it. When a little recovered, he would venture to the meeting house, on horse-back, where he would exhort, preach, pray and give counsel, sound and good, while he was supported by two persons to steady him. At other times he would go to the water side at the administration of the ordinance of baptism, and advocate that mode.
My visits to this father in Zion, being frequent, he one day, wished to have the
worship of God attended in his house. I spoke from these words; "Lord help me." I discovered him to be much in tears, and he appeared much affected. When dismissed, while lying on the bed, he seized my hand, and in an extacy exclaimed, "The Lord has helped me!" His cup appeared full and running over; and he often expressed a wish to depart, and be with Christ, which was far better; but patience he seemed to crave, and I believe God granted his request; for he had every mark of a soul waiting on God.
On the Lord's day week, before his decease, I was in the pulpit, and observed one of the connections pass hastily across the floor and whisper to another, which led me to think some change had taken place. After worship, I inquired, and heard he was very ill, and near his last. I went to see him, and he appeared much altered, which induced me to think he was near home. He appeared smiling, and in no great misery; nor would he ever own that he was. His appetite failed
him, and in the course of that week he wore away much; yet his senses and reason continued. Myself and his family, set up the whole night, and I asked him a number of questions, being desirous of knowing the exercise of his mind. He appeared permanently fixed on Jesus, as the rock of ages. I asked him, what I should request of God in his behalf? His answer was, that he might enjoy his right mind, and be resigned to God's will. His anxious eyes were upon his weeping children. The night before he expired, I went to see him, went to the bed side and took hold of his hand, and asked if he knew me? he motioned in the affirmative. I asked him if he was in much pain? he spoke so as to be heard, and said no. I then asked him, if he wanted to be with Jesus? he said yes! This was the last word, which could be understood, at least, so far as my recollection serves me. I went to prayer with the family and friends, after which, he was taken with a fit, which continued with but little alteration till morning; when business called me away. I bid him farewell in my mind, no
more expecting to see him in life. I went to visit another sick person in the course of the day, and called again in the evening, when I found him still breathing. It had been my wish, for years, to close his eyes in death, should I survive him; but another call happening that evening, I left him in the hands of a faithful and able friend, and about ten o'clock of that night, being the 10th, day of August 1804, he got dismission from the church militant to the church triumphant; being in the 78th year of his age.
The following hymns and pass are closely connected with the subject of the preceding Biography, I have ventured to insert them by way of Appendix, presuming they will be gratifying to the friends of the deceased. The hymn, composed by Mr. Newman, originated in the following manner. Mr. Gano had an appointment, in the year 1755, to preach in Virginia. He had begun his journey for that purpose, and had proceeded as far as Mr. Newman's, when a freshet prevented his passing the river. Knowing Mr. Newman to possess a poetical turn, he requested him to compose a few lines on the occasion, which Mr. Newman readily complied with. It is not offered to the public as a specimen of correct or elegant poetry,
but as the spontaneous effusions of a productive mind. The pass was also written by Mr. Newman during the French war, and was occasioned by the following circumstance. Mr, Gano was travelling, as an itinerant preacher, and as it was dangerous to travel without a pass, he requested Mr. Newman, who was a magistrate, to write him one. Mr. Newman with cheerfulness immediately complied. The Hymn, "Ah lovely appearance of death" was a favourite of Mr. Gano's, and he requested it might be sung at his funeral, which was performed by his afflicted widow and daughter Hubbel.
Composed by Samuel Newman, of Virginia, in the year 1755, on the Rev. John Gano.
O! Gorious King, thy works of grace
Are wonderful unto this place,
Unasked for, thou didst prepare,
And sent thy servant GANO here.
With joyful tidings, sounding sweet,
Of Christ, the Saviour, so complete;
And yet the sinner for to awe,
And boldly to proclaim the law.
Which done, a work he tho't most meet,
A harbinger sought a retreat,
Not back, but from us for to go
To Carolina, you must know.
With hasty steps, with news of grace,
To Adam's fallen, guilty race,
The silver trump he tho't to sound,
In a small place, within that ground,
But mark! Virginia's happy gain,
Another warning to attain,
Of sin and satan to beware,
The clouds assist to stop hint here.
With waters they the rivers fill,
Across the road, from hill to hill;
Thus Providence has clear'd the way,
To give to us another day.
Now Lord, in thy protecting hand,
Thy servant takes a still command;
All things to work thy good always,
Who fear thy name, and seek thy praise.
And when no longer he must stay,
O Lord! go with him, guide his way,
And with thy truth and mercy sweet,
Ever direct his wandering feet.
In living pastures fresh and green,
Do thou his rod and staff remain,
And his thirsty straits and needs,
To living fountains, thou him lead.
Whilst going through this vale of tears,
Keep him from boding doubts and fears;
And when his work is finish'd
Return thy servant, Gano, here.
And when from here he back doth roam,
Be with thy servant, guide him home;
And help us all to praise thy name,
Thy servant still to praise thy name.
And brother, dear, whilst far away,
Remember me, I humbly pray;
Me, and my wife, and children small,
Up to Jehovah, offer all.
Offer, also, Virginia's land,
That dreary place of barren sand,
That Christ might make it fruitful be,
O! pray for us to God most high.
Dear brother, finally, farewell,
May Jesus, by his spirit dwell,
Within our hearts, and own the cause,
Teaching to love, and keep his laws.
THE FOLLOWING PASS
Composed by Mr. Newman, on Mr, Gano, when on a journey to Carolina.
Go, go, sweet youth, go spread thy master's theme,
For well thou'st learnt his attributes and name.
Go, in his strength, no cold will thee annoy,
Go, make the hills and vallies echo joy.
Proclaim the Saviour, this is all thy theme,
Jesus, the Lord, and his blest Gospels' scheme.
Go, sound the trump, for well thou can'st it blow,
Jesus, the Lord, and his blest merits show.
Lift up his ensign, show his purple gore,
That from his side, for sinners, out did pour!
O! let them, waving in the wind, appear,
Shew them their sins, the cruel sword or spear
That pierced his side to make this crimson dye,
Perhaps they'll tremble, and their sins destroy;
And own the Lord and his compassions sweet,
And fall before him, victims at his feet.
O! let, also, the blazing ensign fly,
Awaken sinners, tell them they must die.
O! sound the dreadful thunders of the law,
Which pleads perfection, and without a flaw.
The soul that sins, or breaks the law must die,
And damn'd must be to all eternity;
They must, they must, I tremble for to tell,
They must endure the scorching flames of hell.
Go, then, sweet GANO in thy master's name.
These glorious truths most boldly to proclaim,
Fear not the wicked, nor the serpent's rod,
Thou hast for strength, an omnipotent God.
O! precious Gano, here thy comfort stands,
Thou'rt in the way, obeying his Commands;
Rejoice, sweet saint, the ways with pleasure crown,
'Till he thy soul with living pleasures drown;
And Christians all of high or low degree,
For Jesus sake, this I demand of thee.
Stop not the bearer, through any vain pretence,
Nor use unto him any insolence.
Rather protect him from the base design,
Of hellish men, that should against him join.
A subject true he is to George our King,
O! join with him, to Jesus praises sing.
Ye magistrates, who love sweet Jesus' name,
Ye need not fear to sign the very same.
I, as your brother, under George our King,
Do sign this pass, and seal it with my ring.
The following HYMN he requested (previous to his death) might be sung at his funeral,
which was accordingly done.
"AH! lovely appearance of death,
What sight upon earth is so fair?
Not all the gay pageants that breathe,
Can with a dead body compare!
With solemn delight I survey,
The corpse, when the spirit is fled,
In love with the beautiful clay,
And longing to lie in its stead.
How blest is our brother, bereft
Of al1 that could burthen his mind;
How easy the soul that has left,
This wearisome body behind!
Of evil incapable thou,
Whose relics with envy I see,
No longer in misery now,
No longer a sinner like me.
This earth ia affected no more,
With sickness, or shaken with pain;
The war in the members is o'er,
And never shall vex him again!
No anger, henceforward, or shame,
Shall redden this innocent clay;
Extinct is the animal flame,
And passion is vanished away.
This lanquishing head is at rest,
Its thinking and aching are o'er;
This quiet, immoveable breast,
Is heav'd by affliction no more!
This heart is no longer the seat,
Of trouble and torturing pain;
It ceases to flutter and beat,
It never shall flutter again.
The lids he so seldom could close,
(By sorrow forbidden to sleep,)
Seal'd up in a lengthy repose.
Have strangely forgotten to weep.
The fountains can yield no supplies,
These hollows from water are free,
The tears are all wip'd from these eyes,
And evil they never shall see.
To mourn and to suffer is mine,
While bound in a prison, I breathe;
And stili for deliverance pine,
And press to the issues of death.
What now, with my tears I bedew,
O might I this moment become!
My spirit created anew,
My flesh be consign'd to the tomb.
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