This morning England’s heart was throbbing with pain; to-morrow she would be mourning for her dead son. The only man whom England trusted was dying on Tower Hill! And this group—atoms of England, and parts of England’s heart—without such guards as these, they dared not pray for him.
Thus Mr Rose prayed:—
“O Lord, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders! whose way is in the sea, and whose path in the great waters, and whose footsteps are not known! We kneel before Thee this dread morrow, to beseech Thee on behalf of Edward Seymour, by Thy grace and providence Duke of Somerset. For causes unknown to us, but known to Thine unfathomable wisdom, Thou hast given leave to his enemies to triumph over him; and in Thy wise, and good, and just allowing and ordering of men’s ways, he is as this day cast for death. We know, O Lord, that Thy judgments are right, and that Thou in faithfulness dost afflict and chasten man, whether for sin, or for correction and instruction in righteousness. Therefore we would not beseech Thee to remove Thine hand from him—as, even at the last moment, Thou wert able to do—but rather so to order this Thy very awful providence, that he may be strengthened for death, and enabled to put his whole trust in Thy mercy, and in the alone merits of the bitter cross and passion of Thy Son our Lord. Suffer him not to depart from Thy fear, nor to lose his full and entire confidence in Thy mercy. Let not the malice of the Devil, neither the traitorousness and perfidiousness of his own evil heart, cause him to fall short of Thy heavenly calling. O Lord God most holy, O Lord God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, suffer him not, in his last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from Thee!”
He paused a moment, and all responded—“Amen.” Yet he rose not. But while they knelt, from within the wall of the Tower enclosure came a sudden tumult, rushings to and fro, and shouts and cries of “Jesu, save us!” After a few minutes all was quiet.
And when all was quiet, Mr Rose went on.
“Lord, bow down Thine ear, and hear! Open, Lord, Thine eyes, and see! Reveal unto this dying man the glory of Thy kingdom, the beauty of Thyself, that so he may count all things but loss that he may win Christ. Open unto him the gates of pearl, which the righteous shall enter into—make him to shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of Thee, O Father. Grant him to endure this his cross for Thy love, and in Thy strength, and after to reign with Thee in glory evermore.”
He made another pause—a longer one; and again all responded, “Amen.” During his silence came another roar from Tower Hill; but all was again silent (Note 2). The minutes passed slowly to the kneeling group. It seemed a long time ere he spoke again.
“O Lord, shed Thy peace over the last moments of this our brother in the Gospel of Christ—in Thy kingdom and patience. Let Thy servant depart in peace. Suffer not Satan to harass and annoy him, nor the thought of his own sins to grieve and shake him. Fix his mind firmly upon Thee and on Thy Christ. O holy and merciful Saviour, suffer him not, at his last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from Thee!”
As Mr Rose uttered the last word, the Tower guns rang out, clear and sharp, on the frosty morning air. Few sounds ever thrilled so straight to the Gospellers’ hearts as that. None uttered another word while they knelt. Even the Amen was silent now. They might pray no more for Edward Duke of Somerset.
Slowly, one after another, all rose. All still, in silent mourning, they waited till the great clock of Saint Botolph’s rang out eight times. The next minute every door in the street was opened, and men were pouring out in a mass toward Aldgate. Then Mr Rose, with a heavy sigh, rose and held out his hand. That action unloosed the tongues of the party.