It may be that at some future time a life of the remarkable man may be written, narrating in order all the incidents from his birth at Brooklyn Street, Cornwallis, N. S.; his lessons respecting truth and righteousness learned when ten years old at his grandmother Tupper’s knee; his experiences on the farm, at his trade, in school, and in the work of the pastorate; his unremitting toil as Missionary to the Micmacs; and all the rewards that came to him, encouraging him to press on in spite of every discouragement. Mention might here be made, however, of the letter from Gladstone, saying: “I at once admit that your version of the ‘Rock of Ages’ is more exact than mine;” and of his having received the degree of L.L.D. from Queen’s College, that of D.D. from Acadia, and that of D. C. L. from Kings,—fitting acknowledgments of his remarkable achievements and contributions towards the progress of mankind.
But, come with me, and let us rest for a moment where I sat last June in the Cemetery at Hantsport. There stands a neat red granite monument, erected by his daughter, bearing this inscription:
DR. RAND,
MICMAC MISSIONARY,
Fell asleep Oct. 4, 1890.
Aged 80 years.
“There shall I wear a starry crown
And triumph in almighty grace,
While all the armies of the skies
Join in my glorious Leader’s praise.”