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CHAPTER XXI.
THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH.
“O weep, ye friends of freedom weep!
Your harps to mournful measures sweep.”
On the last day of November, 1620, on the confines of the Grand Bank of Newfoundland, lo! we behold one little solitary tempest-tost and weather-beaten ship; it is all that can be seen on the length and breadth of the vast intervening solitudes, from the melancholy wilds of Labrador and New England's iron-bound shores, to the western coasts of Ireland and the rock-defended Hebrides, but one lonely ship greets the eye of angels or of men, on this great thoroughfare of nations in our age. Next in moral grandeur, was this ship, to the great discoverer's: Columbus found a continent; the May-flower brought the seed-wheat of states and empire. That is the May-flower, with its servants of the living God, their wives and little ones, hastening to lay y the foundations of nations in the occidental lands of the setting-sun. Hear the voice of prayer to God for his protection, and the glorious music of praise as it breaks into the wild tempest of the mighty deep, upon the ear of God, Here in this, ship are great and good men. Justice, mercy, humanity respect for the rights of all; each man honoured, as he was useful to himself and others; labour respected, law-abiding men, constitution-making and inspecting men; men, whom no tyrant could conquer, or hardship overcome, with the high commission sealed by a Spirit divine, to esta-
