A scene I witnessed, and not long time since, Would stop the errors of an hardened prince; Three men were sentenc’d by the Law to die, To hear them mourn, to see the drooping eye; Would cause sensations of a painful kind, While anxious cares corode the tortur’d mind. A pious Chaplain strove, to bring in view, The proffer’d pardon if repentants true. He said that God was merciful and just, To implore forgiveness, on his word to trust; There is a record where the scripture say, Those that repent he will not cast away; A sigh or tear cannot that boon impart, It must be fervent from the head and heart: Thro’ Jesus’ aid vile sinners doth he save, If true repentants, ere they meet the grave. Each wish’d they could recal, the time that’s past, And they would live as if each day the last: Just before death, they pray’d me to implore, An erring mortal to transgress no more; Hope their lov’d Chaplain might, for ever be When call’d on high, blessed to eternity; They knew his worth his heart is of a kind, That plants soft pity to a feeling mind: Deeker, as Chaplain, few can e’er excel, Belov’d by all who bids the jail farewell. When first I saw these wretched men in jail, Before their trial, did their fate bewail; Soon as the sentence met each anxious ear, Resign’d, and true repentants did appear; One and all cried out, oh that God how just! To stop our sad career, on thee we’ll trust; One cause alone have made this sore distress, Neglecting Lord’s day and our drunkenness.
Walker, Printer, near the Duke’s Palace, Norwich.