‘Nut a clood doth arise,
Te darken mi’ skies,
Or te hide for a moment my Lord fre’ mi’ eyes.’
‘Roond aboot an’ underneeath ma’ are the ivverlastin’ airms,’ an’ iv ’em ah sail swing inte heaven, as Mary tosses ’er bairn till it fair screeams wi’ joy. God bless yo’, dear and friend. Ah sail seean sing as weel as you, an’ when you’ve waited a lahtle bit langer, we’ll sing tegither the prayses o’ wer Greeat Redeemer. Deean’t yo’ remember yer aun sang,—
An’ when ah’m landed on Canaan’s breet shore,
Befoore aingels an’ saints will ah shoot it!
Give Glory te Jesus the King ivvermair
The King ’at ah tell’d all aboot it!”
On the day of his death, Squire Fuller, Philip, Lucy and the little children, gathered round his bed to receive his parting blessing. Philip had rightly said, “Old Adam’s benediction on the children will prove a richer heritage than houses or land.”
On one and all the patriarch placed his feeble hands, the while he breathed a silent prayer, and said aloud, “O Lord, mah God an’ Sayviour! bless the bairn!” The children were dismissed, the elders remained, and were joined by Adam’s sons and daughters, who gathered round to see a golden sunset such as was never equalled by any gorgeous glory of the western sky. The old man lay propped with pillows, his scant white hair smoothed from his brow, and his thin brown hands laid on the spotlessly white coverlet of his bed. The shadows of evening had not yet fallen, but the sun was fast declining, and its slanting beams fell upon his pillow, and lit up his features with their glow Mary partially drew down the blind to shade his eyes.