Page:The City of the Saints.djvu/554

went, I am informed, to Nauvoo for the purpose of raising a company of men for our protection. Brother Fulmer went to Nauvoo after witnesses: it is my opinion that Brother Wheelock did also.

Some time after dinner we sent for some wine. It has been reported by some that this was taken as a sacrament. It was no such thing; our spirits were generally dull and heavy, and it was sent for to revive us. I think it was Captain Jones who went after it, but they would not suffer him to return. I believe we all drank of the wine, and gave some to one or two of the prison guards. We all of us felt unusually dull and languid, with a remarkable depression of spirits. In consonance with those feelings I sang the following song, that had lately been introduced into Nauvoo, entitled, "A poor wayfaring man of grief," etc.

 

1. A poor wayfaring man of grief
Hath often cross'd me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer Nay.

2. I had not power to ask his name,
Whither he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love, I know not why.

3. Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He enter'd not a word he spake!
Just perishing for want of hread;
I gave him all: he bless'd it, brake,

4. And ate, but gave me part again;
Mine was an angel's portion then,
For while I fed with eager haste,
The crust was manna to my taste.

3. I spied him where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock his strength was gone
The heedless water mock'd his thirst;
He heard it, saw it hurrying on.

6. I ran and raised the suff'rer up;
Thrice from the stream he drain'd my cup,
Dipp'd, and return'd it running o'er;
I drank, and never thirsted more.

7. 'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
A winter hurricane aloof;
I heard his voice abroad, and flew
To bid him welcome to my roof.

8. I warm'd, I clothed, I cheer'd my guest,
I laid him on my couch to rest;
Then made the earth my bed, and seem'd
In Eden's garden while I dream'd.

9. Stripp'd, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side;
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied

10. Wine, oil, refreshment: he was heal'd;
I had myself a wound conceal'd,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

11. In prison I saw him next, condemn'd
To meet a traitor's doom at morn;
The tide of lying tongues I stemm'd,
And honor'd him 'mid shame and scorn.

12. My friendship's utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die;
The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill;
But the free spirit cried "I will."

13. Then in a moment to my view
The stranger started from disguise;
The tokens in his hands I knew;
The Savior stood before mine eyes.

14. He spake and my poor name he named
"Of me thou hast not been ashamed;
These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not; thou didst them unto me.'

 

The song is pathetic, and the tune quite plaintive, and was very much in accordance with our feelings at the time, for our spirits were all depressed, dull, and gloomy, and surcharged with indefinite ominous forebodings. After a lapse of some time, Brother Hyrum requested me again to sing that song. I replied, "Brother Hyrum, I do not feel like singing;" when he remarked, "Oh! never mind; commence singing, and you will get the spirit of it." At his request I did so. Soon afterward I was sitting at one of the front windows of the jail, when I saw a number of men, with painted faces, coming round the corner of the jail, and aiming toward the stairs. The other brethren had seen the same, for, as I went to the door, I found Brother Hyrum Smith and Dr. Richards already leaning against it; they both pressed against the door with their shoulders to prevent its being opened, as the lock and latch were comparatively useless. While in this position, the mob, who had come up stairs, and strove to open the door, probably thought it was locked, and fired a ball through the keyhole; at this Dr. Richards and Brother Hyrum leaped back from the door, with their faces toward it; almost instantly another ball passed through the panel of the door, and struck Brother Hyrum on the left side of the nose, entering his face and head; simultaneously, at the same instant, another ball from the outside entered his back, passing through his body and striking his watch. The ball came from the back, through the jail window, opposite the door, and must, from its range, have been fired from the Carthage Grays, as the balls of fire-arms, shot close by the jail, would have entered the ceiling, we being in the second story, and there never was a time after that Hyrum could have received the latter wound. Immediately, when the balls struck him, he fell flat on his back, crying as he fell, "I am a dead man!" He never moved afterward.

I shall never forget the feeling of deep sympathy and regard manifested in the countenance of Brother Joseph as he drew nigh to Hyrum, and, leaning over him,