While cruel death is always near —
What a feeble thing is man !
Then sow the seed of grace while young,
That when you come to die,
You may sing the triumphant song,
Death ! where's thy victory ? "
With the above lines has my mother often
soothed, for a time, her own sorrows, when she
thought of her poor son, so far away from her, she
knew not where, neither could she know of his suf¬
ferings ; and again, she would become a prey to
bitter grief. Her only hope was to meet her son in
heaven, where slaveholders could not come with
their purchase-money, where Lacy could not come
with his dogs, his guns, or his pistols, with powder
or balls; neither would she have to steal away to
see him, with a little food well concealed. Neither
will Benjamin be obliged to crouch in the forest,
hearing the midnight cry of wild beasts around him,
while he seeks repose upon the cold, bare ground.
No, she will meet him at the right hand of the
Redeemer, who will wipe the briny tears from the
eyes of the poor slave, and feed him with the hidden
treasures of His love.
My father did not belong to Edloe, but was owned
by a Mr. George Harrison, whose plantation
adjoined that of my master. Harrison made my