The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1882-03-29

tive preacher was invited to hold reli-
gious services, but the preacher being
somewhat piously satirical at the moment
intimated that he was not in frame OF
mind suitable to such exercises. They
might not enjoy sermon or prayer in
spired by the state of his feelings. Upon
their leaving the county he was formally
paroled and released. Thus liberated
sans horse, sans saddle, Sooas saddle
bags, sans change of clothing, sans ser
his friends in the bounds of Pisgah church
A number of friends endeavored to make
good his losses. Mrs. E. II. Brown sent
up liberal donation from Richmond,
which helped very much towards secur-
ing the nice little horse he took with him
to Delaware seven years afterwards.
Upon one occasion, at his earnest soil
citation, the writer arranged to aid him
at communion at Pisgah. There were
so many rumors of swamp dragons raid
ing that part of the county, that the
writer thought it best to leave his horse
near the Sounding Knob, and walk from
there to the valley beyond. The meet
ing was attended by great many people,
nearly all walking except few elderly
persons, who rode old or condemned
horses. Very late Sabbath night, a mes
senger came for us to visit a family afflict-
ed with diphtheria. The mother and
several of the children were Frustrated
with this dread disease Iii malignant
form Maggie, aged eleven years, was
believed to be dying. We reached their
home about midnight of that sultry Au-
gust Sabbath. Upon speaking to Maggie
it was very evident she could not live
many hours longer. A kind lady said to
her, Maggie, the preachers have come
What do you want them to do?' She
tried to say something, but her lips were
so parched that she could not make her
self understood. She made signs for
water; it was given her pure and fresh
from the spring Having taken some,
she whispered, Il want them to sing Oh
for closer walk with God and then
pray for me- One of us read a few
verses from the 18th of John, but it was
with the greatest difficulty that we could
sing, our feelings so overpowered in the
presence Of the dying child. But after
repeated efforts, we succeeded, and then
we both prayed, brother Kennedy offer
ing up the concluding petitions 1t seems
to the writer as he pens these words that
he sees the beautiful child gazing so visit
fully out of the shadows, and calling in
faint whispers to sing:
Oh for closer walk with God,
A calm and heavenly frame
A light to shine upon the road
That leads me to the Lamb"
Early next morning she went to be with
Jesus, and the writer has no doubt his
ministerial brother and the little girl
have met at the pearly threshold and
know for themselves the brightness of
the true light.
Brother Kennedy belonged to sue
cession Of ministers. His grandfather
and father were ministers He had good
training in the best of schools. He was
endowed with good natural talents, had
clear views of scriptural truth, and in his
ministry was punctual, Jealous, and en-
ergetic. In the best sense he was a con-
secrated man, for he devoted everything
to the one work of his life, preachlmg the
Word. He did work worth living for,
though he was so quiet in his labors,
spending the most of his time in remote
and comparatively unknown places, and
never occupying what are termed com
handing positions.
The history Of the Presby terian Church
shows, however, that no laborers in all
the Church are more needed than such
humble, persevering, and quiet workers,
that are rarely ever heard of, and elicit
no applause Thus it has been written
by some one, holding the pen of a ready
writer Such as these after all, are the
mighty factors which God employs in the
upbuilding of his Church Take away
these quiet workers in the cause of truth
and righteousness, dry up these gentle
streams that flow through the parched
deserts of humanity, stop these voices,
which day by day are speaking in low
tones to sorrowing men and women the
name of the crucifed one, and there will
come upon the world night of despair.
In thinking of this precious brother,
now departed, Count Zinzendorf's pathetic
words come to mind
Had He asked US, well we know,
We should cry, spare this blow"
Yes, with streaming tears should pray,
Lord we love him, let him STAY"
Day by day the voice saith Come,
Enter this eternal home :"
Asking not if we can spare
This dear soul it summons there.