At last a stranger, in a pedlar’s shed,
Beheld him hanging - he had long been dead.
He left a paper, penn’d at sundry times,
Entitled thus - “My Groanings and my Crimes!”
“I was a Christian man, and none could lay
Aught to my charge; I walk’d the narrow way:
All then was simple faith, serene and pure,
My hope was stedfast and my prospects sure;
Then was I tried by want and sickness sore,
But these I clapp’d my shield of faith before,