Thou shalt to death go down with me,
And lay me gently in the grave.

This body then shall rest in hope,
This body which the worms destroy;
For thou shalt surely raise me up,
To glorious life and endless joy.'"

Farewell, preacher with the plain coat, and the calm serious look! I saw
thee once again, and that was lately--only the other day. It was near a
fishing hamlet, by the seaside, that I saw the preacher again. He stood
on the top of a steep monticle, used by pilots as a look-out for vessels
approaching that coast, a dangerous one, abounding in rocks and
quicksands. There he stood on the monticle, preaching to weather-worn
fishermen and mariners gathered below upon the sand. "Who is he?" said I
to an old fisherman who stood beside me with a book of hymns in his hand;
but the old man put his hand to his lips, and that was the only answer I
received. Not a sound was heard but the voice of the preacher and the
roaring of the waves; but the voice was heard loud above the roaring of
the sea, for the preacher now spoke with power, and his voice was not
that of one who hesitates. There he stood--no longer a young man, for
his black locks were become gray, even like my own; but there was the
intelligent face, and the calm serious look which had struck me of yore.
There stood the preacher, one of those men--and, thank God, their number
is not few--who, animated by the spirit of Christ, amidst much poverty,
and, alas! much contempt, persist in carrying the light of the Gospel
amidst the dark parishes of what, but for their instrumentality, would
scarcely be Christian England. I should have waited till he had
concluded, in order that I might speak to him and endeavour to bring back
the ancient scene to his recollection, but suddenly a man came hurrying
towards the monticle, mounted on a speedy horse, and holding by the
bridle one yet more speedy, and he whispered to me, "Why loiterest thou
here?--knowest thou not all that is to be done before midnight?" and he
flung me the bridle; and I mounted on the horse of great speed, and I
followed the other, who had already galloped off. And as I departed, I
waved my hand to him on the monticle, and I shouted, "Farewell, brother!
the seed came up at last, after a long period!" and then I gave the
speedy horse his way, and leaning over the shoulder of the galloping
horse, I said, "Would that my life had been like his--even like that
man's."

I now wander