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kind, and prayer impregnated with love, and made 
buoyant by faith, coming from the heart, and carrying 
the heart along with it, in the name of the great High 
Priest. And then there will be more labourers, and they 
will be labourers divinely sent and trained; and then there 
will be voluntarily offered all the money that is wanted, 
for the silver and gold of the world belong to Him who 
hears prayer. And I think we should get more for re- 
ligious objects, if we practically recognized this truth, 
and solicited God as importunately as we sometimes so- 
licit men. It is at the throne of grace that our hearts 
are made sensitive to feel, and become large to commu- 
nicate. It is there in communion with God that we ap- 
proximate, as near as we can, to the knowledge of the 
worth of the soul, and learn the comparative worthless- 
ness of every thing but the soul. Oh, if a man will but 
pray, so as to be heard on high, he may do as he pleases 
in other things, for his pleasure will be his duty. God 
forbid that we should sin against him, in not praying 
the Lord the harvest, that he will send forth labourers 
into his harvest. 

God forbid that any youth should go, unsent by Him. 
It were better for him that he had never been born ! And 
God forbid, that at such a day as this, any whom He 
calls should refuse to go ! He will at last enter heaven if 
he be God's child ; but if that be possible, he will enter 
it with a blush of shame ! How can he meet Martyn, 
and Buchannan, and Mills, and Urquhart, and Paul, and 
the Lord of the harvest! How can he bear the sight, at 
the last day, of souls lost, because, when the Lord called, 
he refused! 






There is in the Library of " the Society of Inquiry 
on Missions" in the Theological Seminary at Princeton, 
N." J. a most interesting manuscript-work in two vol- 
umes, called " The Obituary," in which, as its name 
imports, the last days, especially, (though a brief bio- 
graphy commonly attends it) of all deceased persons 
who have once been members of that Institution — are 

It is a work, which, alas! is but too certain of enlarge- 
ment. It is replete, already, with affecting and useful 
sketches of the life and death of some of our most devoted 
and distinguished young Ministers, or candidates for the 
sacred office . 

Not less than forty names are here registered among 
the dead^ and the second volume is rapidly filling up. 
Who next shall be there enrolled, God alone can tell! 

As a memorial of departed worth, these volumes are 
most creditable to the Society : — and to the future his» 


torian of the American Church, will be rich in impor- 
tant matter. 

But, in the mean time, it seemed a circumstance 
greatly to be regretted, that so many interesting and 
profitable narratives should be entirely withheld from 
the Christian public. 

We feel this the more, from having intimately known 
many of the lamented subjects ; from a careful perusal 
of the solemn contents ; and from a persuasion that 
candidates for the Ministry, generally, might derive 
from them important benefit, as well as great pleasure. 
With these views it was, that we (having a special re- 
gard to the Candidates under the care of the Board of 
Education) requested permission of the Society, through 
a friend, to publish a portion of these narratives in the 
little volume in which they now appear : — and we can- 
not too heartily thank our young brethren of that vene- 
rable Seminary, for the promptitude and kindness with 
which they yielded to our wishes. 

We present the following as specimens only, of 
the entire work, having no space in the present 
volume of our Annual for more. But we hope to be 
permitted to enrich its future pages with similar and 
more copious extracts. 

It is due to the " Society of Inquiry" to say, that 


though the pieces are generally well written, most of 
them are the productions of early youth, and were not 
originally designed for the press. We have thought it 
best, however, with the exception of a few verbal correc- 
tions, to publish them as they were written, proceeding 
as they do, from the hearts of pious youth, weeping at 
the tombs of departed brethren and fellow-students. 

If these pages should meet the eye of surviving rela- 
tives of the deceased, we are persuaded they will ap- 
prove our humble attempt to honour their memory, and 
to make them speak from the grave. The facts are 
considered public property; and having been furnished 
by their friends for the Archives of a public institution, 
there can be no indelicacy in making the present use of 

May these simple and almost sacred annals do much 
good, as they go forth upon the minds of a great num- 
ber of youth, now looking to the sacred office ! May 
they learn from these solemn memorials, that no extent 
of present usefulness — or promise of it for the future, 
can avert the stroke of death! 


Philadelphia, Oct. 8th, 1832. 



John Smith Neweold, was born on the 1st October, 
1795, in tlie city of Philadelphia. He was distinguished 
from early youth by a disposition peculiarly amiable and 
engaging-, an active and ingenuous mind, a memory un- 
commonly retentive, and a conscientious regard lor truth. 
His deportment was cheerful, and, in his early years, 
even gay ; yet a consistency and dignity marked his 
character, which caused him to be regarded almost with 
reverence by the youthful members of the family. 
After finishing the usual term of preparatory education, 
and with marks of peculiar approbation from his teach- 
ers, he left Philadelphia on tho 8th November, 1813, 
for Princeton, and was admitted into tlje College of 
New Jersey, as a member of the Sophomore class. 

We have been often led to admire the manifest lead- 
ings of an all -wise Providence at this time. His mother 
had always objected strongly to his going to college, on 
account of the fear of exposing her son to the tempta- 
tions and dangers associated in her mind with a college 
life. He had endeavoured to quiet her apprehensions 
and sooth her fears on his account, considering tliem as 


groundless, but her reluctance was still great at parting 
with him. How little did she know the rich blessings 
that were in store for him ; that at this very place he 
should see his lost state as a sinner, and be enabled to 
flee to that Saviour who was his confidence and hope ! 

It was his intention, when he had finished his college 
course, to study medicine. He firequently expressed his 
sentiments on this subject with much animation, and 
thought the ability to relieve the sufferings of his fellow 
creatures would be productive of great happiness to 
him. At this time he seems to have have had no claims 
to the character of a christian ; — but his conduct and all 
his intercourse was distinguished by a dignity, joined to 
an affability, that secured the respect and affection of 
all that knew him. 

In the October vacation of 1814, he was remarked by 
his family to be more serious than usual, but they could 
not account for it then. At this time he said, (referring 
to what he supposed would be his future profession) 
that he wished to be a Physician to the soul as well as 
to the body, and asked, privately, to have a Bible put 
into his chamber. He returned to college, and continued, 
without any particular indications of seriousness, until 
the 14th January, 1815, when his family received a 
letter stating the change which he hoped he had under- 
gone. Addressing his mother, he says : " Although I 
shall not have time to write much, I thought I had bet- 
ter write to you in order to communicate to you a cir- 
cumstance, which I hope will make you and the rest of 
the family sincerely glad. You have heard me speak 


sometimes of the excellent preaching we have here. 
I have now to inform you, that through the blessing of 
God upon it I have been made to have some serious im- 
pressions in regard to my situation, which I hope and 
trust, through the mercy of God, will not be extin- 
guished, but will continue to increase and accompany 
me through my whole life, and finally gain for me a 
blessed immortality. I do not doubt, my dear mother, 
that this information will give you sincere pleasure ; at 
least, it has had this effect upon some pious young men 
in college ; — how much more, then, upon you, who, I am 
certain, take such a deep interest in my welfare. It 
gives me pleasure also to mention, that there are ap- 
pearances of several others being inclined soon to follow 
the same path which I am endeavouring to follow; 
and God grant that I may be enabled to persevere in 
following it. How happy should I be made, if, at my 
return home in the vacation, I should find a like change 
had taken place in all at home : that you had all been 
made to know your best interests! It is my daily 
prayer that this joy may be mine ; and oh, may my 
prayers be heard!" 

From this time we shall make frequent extracts 
from his weekly communications with his family, which 
afford the most faithful transcript of his religious views 
and feelings, and the most interesting outline of his 
noble character. Although this change in his senti- 
ments appears to have been very sudden, yet in his next 
ietter he mentions, it was not so much so as was sup- 
posed — " Serious impressions were made upon my mind 

274 BIOGRAPtty OF 

in soniG degree towards the close of the last session, 
which were considerably interrupted during the vaca- 
tion, but revived with double force on my return to col- 
lege this fall. I did not know that there was any body 
similarly affected in college, which, of course, kept me 
from declaring my sentiments until I thought they 
would, through the Divine blessing, be lasting." 

From this time it was his constant endeavour, by the 
most faithful and affectionate exhortations, to interest 
those who were nearest his heart, in the concern of their 
soul's salvation. This will be exemplified fully in the 
following extract of a letter dated March, 1815 : " I 
have written you so oflen on the subject of rehgion, my 
dear *****, that I do not know what more I can say. 
But I do hope I have not written altogether in vain. 
Have you not felt sometimes that what I told you, how- 
ever feebly expressed, was nevertheless true, and of the 
utmost importance ? Have you not felt sometimes half 
inclined to be religious ; and do you not intend to be so 
yet some time or other ! Surely you do not intend to 
die without making some preparation for eternity ; then 
why delay ? What hinders you but want of inclina- 
tion ! Why don't you, then, strive, my dear *****, 
while God is inviting you so tenderly, and promising 
that if you will strive you shall obtain it ? When Jesus 
Christ died to save you, why will you destroy your- 
self? This short and sorrowful life will soon, very 
soon, be past, and our spirits will return to God who 
gave them ; and oh, how awful will that return be for 
us, if we should be called away in an unprepared state,! 


The time must come, and however it may seem to lin- 
ger, it is approacliing with dreadful rapidity. Can you 
look forward without being dismayed? Can you look 
into the grave, that cold and silent mansion for all the 
living, and to which we are all hastening, and not shud- 
der ? Can you look forward to the morning of the re- 
surrection, and not almost think you hear the arch- 
angel's trump summoning you to appear at the dread 
tribunal of an offended God? Remember that the 
same Jesus whom you might have for an Advocate and 
Saviour, will otherwise be your Accuser and your Judge ; 
that as his mercy is infinite, so also is his wrath. Oh, 
then, while you have time and opportunity, make him 
your Saviour; try to obtain an interest in his death and 
inconceivable sufferings. Do not think me too harsh in 
what I have v^n-itten ; indeed, it is a subject not to be 
trifled with. Oh, may God make us all trophies of his 
redeeming love and grace I" 

Of these letters, one of his sisters says, "I trustjwith him 
that these affectionate remonstrances have not been in 
vain. All that this dear brother said and did, deeply in- 
terested us; and if any of us have a hope, through grace, 
of eternal life, it is entirely through his instrumentality." 
In the spring vacation of 1815, (the first he spent at 
home after the revival in the college,) his whole deport- 
ment was impressively solemn and affectionate. He 
took the earliest opportunity to converse, and "I think," 
says his sister, "piety never shone in a more amiable, 
yet forcible light, than in him ; bringing every power into 
subjection to Christ Jesus, without the least appearance 

Z At 


of ostentation or gloom. Yet it could not but be ob- 
served, that his face, generally pale, was now more than 
usually so, and a slight pain in his breast caused us 
some apprehension on account of his health." 

From that time till he left Princeton, he was more or 
less subject to this pain ; and dated its origin, it is be- 
lieved, from the time when his mind became occupied so 
much, as he said, with things of a higher nature, that 
bodily exercise was for a season almost entirely ne- 
glected.* On his return to Princeton, he was led to more 
frequent exercise, and in consequence was much better, 
and more free from pain than when in the city. At the 
close of the vacation spoken of above, he was confirmed, 
and afterwards made a public profession of religion in 
the Episcopal Church. From the time that he was first 
religiously impressed, his views, which had formerly 
been towards the study of medicine, were directed to the 
Ministry. He graduated 25th September, 1816, highly 
distinguished for talents, scholarship, and piety, having 
received the first honours of the class. On the 7th of 
November he entered the Theological Seminary in 

In his first letter from thence he says, "I hope and 
pray that it may please God to bestow upon me the ne- 
cessary qualifications to make me a usefiil and faithful 
minister of the Gospel. My wants are very great, but 
in Jesus there are inexhaustible treasures of grace, from 
which I hope to be supplied. Oh, that I were more sen- 

* How often is the Church of Christ called to deplore this sad 
indiscretion in some of her most promising sons I— Ed. 


sibleof the greatness of my necessities, and more earnest 
seeking to liave them suppUed !" 

" From the tenor of two or three letters during his 
last session," says his sister, "our friends were in some 
measure prepared for a conversation we had with him 
in January, 1817, in which he mentioned the probability 
of his going, at some future period, as a Missionary to 
the heathen. In the first of these he mentions the fre- 
quent and pleasant walks he had with one of his most 
intimate friends, and that the subject of their conversa- 
tions was of a nature very interesting to them ; and of 
which, perhaps, he would give us some account in the 
vacation." In another, a short time afterwards, he 
writes, " We do not know how widely we may be sepa- 
'rated in this world ; and we ought to be ready and will- 
ing to make every sacrifice which our duty may re- 
quire. This remark does not apply so immediately to 
the case in hand, as to what may be tlie case a year or 
two hence. We do not know, however, but that some 
separations of a more solemn and interesting kind may 
take place before that time, and for these it should be 
our constant and assiduous endeavour to be prepared. 
For this purpose we should study to have our affections 
very much loosened from earthly objects, we should 
walk in communion with God, in the faith of Christ, and 
in the fellowship of the Holy Ghost." In a third, (one 
of the last he wrote from Princeton,) after mentioning 
how much we had been separated for the previous eight 
years, he says, " But there are many who spend a longer 
time than that without being at home at all, and many 


whom distress, or the love of wealth, and a few whom 
the love of Christ and of perishing souls, lead to spend 
their whole lives in foreign lands. How many and how 
different are the causes which separate the members of 
the same family from one another ; yet if they are also 
members of the family of Christ, they ought not grieve. 
Though in this world they are debarred the pleasure of 
each other's society, yet they have a mansion where they 
shall dwell together forever. It is a, truth, thero re- 
maineth a rest for the people of God. Do we think se- 
riously and frequently enough of this consoling truth ? 
I know, that for myself, I do not ; and I believe this is a 
common fault among Christians. If we did, we should 
not live such cold, unprofitable lives as we do; we would 
not make so much of every trifling object of time and 
sense, and be so much concerned about the ease and 
comfort with which we should pass through life. Our 
time of continuance here is short; our rest is sure and 
glorious ; it has been bought with blood ; it is bestowed 
on the unworthy; shall we not labour then to fill up our 
time in that way which was our Saviour's constant 
aim ? O, let us pray for the grace of his good Spirit to 
mould our hearts into perfect conformity to his will." 
He afterwards speaks of the Missionary Society in the 
Seminary, and says, " It is to be lamented that a mission- 
ary spirit does not prevail more amongst us. It seems as 
if one might say, if a missionary spirit does not glow in 
your breasts, where are we to look for it ? I do not be- 
lieve a single one amongst us is resolved for this work ; 


and there are not more than two or three who think 
seriously about itl" 

From the time that he became deeply sensible of the 
value of his own soul, he manifested a deep concern for 
the Heathen ; and it is not recollected that he ever ad- 
dressed a throne of grace without mentioning them. 

The frame of his mind on entering the last year of 
his life may be known by the following extract from a 
letter dated January 2d, 1818 : " This is the first time 
I have made the figures of the new year,^ and as this 
is the first letter of the year, I begin with sending 
you the compliments of the season, my sincere and 
hearty desires that you may have many and happy 
returns of it; and that every succeeding one may find 
you more engaged in religion, niore devoted to the ser- 
vice of God, and experiencing more of the blessedness 
of it ; that Jesus may become more and more precious, 
and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit more constant, 
purifying, and comfortable. How much reason have I 
to be thankfiil to the Lord for his continued goodness 
and mercy to me. Indeed, we have all cause for thank- 
fulness ; and now, at the beginning of this year, it be- 
comes us to enter upon it with humiliation for the sins 
of the past, and with purposes of new obedience for the 
future. Whether we shall be permitted to see the end of 
it, is known only to the Lord ; but we should endeavour 
so to live, that whatever may be his will concerning us, 
we may be prepared for it." 

He had been admitted a candidate for holy orders in 
the Diocese of Pennsylvania, October 28, 1817 ; and on 


May 20th, 1818, he left the Seminary with the expecta- 
tion of finishing his theological course in Philadelphia. 

Here his affectionate fellow-students would record 
their testimony to that uncommon worth, which is so 
deeply engraven on the hearts of all who knew any 
thing of the humble and vigorous mind, — the noble, and 
disinterested, and holy spirit of this exemplary Chris- 
tian. The memorials of his excellence are not confined 
to a few intimate friends who knew him best. All his 
fellow-students, as they were the objects of his love, and 
the subjects of his fervent prayers, were sharers in the 
influence of his godly example, and will affectionately 
remember Newbold, their departed brother, to the end 
of their days. In the circle of private friendship he was 
cheerful, entertaining, faithful, and edifying. In societies 
for doing good he was always extremely active, taking a 
leading part in every scheme for the glory of God that 
was within his reach. The plan of Sabbath School in- 
struction, which promises do so much for the world, was 
commenced in Princeton by him. He possessed an 
uncommonly penetrating mind, well stored with the 
most useful information; and one spurred on to fatal 
diligence by the best of motives, which, while it was 
accumulating with surprising activity the best of all 
knowledge, was laying it at the feet of Jesus. Yet he 
was well known, too, among the numerous poor whom 
he visited, instructed, and comforted; and even the 
stranger whom he met in his private walks, was soon 
apprised by his pious exhortations that he was a disciple 
of Jesus. In a word, his whole character was such as 


this world had rarely known, even amongst those who 
have devoted the longest lives to its attainment. 

Soon after he left the Seminary, it was observed that he 
had a slight cough, but it did not excite in us any alarm, 
till on the evening of the 27th, when, having coughed 
harder than usual, he said with great composure, "I am 
spitting blood." This was the beginning of his fatal 
disease. The family physician was sent for, but he ap- 
peared to look to the great Physician, for, as he after- 
wards said, he knew not what might be the immediate 
result. His mind seemed occupied the remainder of the 
evening in meditation. Bleeding, and a low regimen, 
were prescribed for him, and he was prohibited much 
conversation. At each return of hemorrhage, which 
was frequent, his strength was gradually reduced. It 
was, therefore, advised that he should spend as much as 
possible of the hot weather in the country. He lefl 
home on the second of July, attended by one of his 
sisters, and visited several of his relations residing in 
New Jersey. In the minds of all who saw him during 
this little tour, he excited a deep interest. Many of them 
viewed him as much nearer eternity than he really was, 
and already ripe for heaven. So perfect an example of 
patience and submission was he, that he seems to have 
left, in these, that proved, indeed, fareweir visits, impres- 
sions tliat will never be effaced. " Perhaps you will be 
surprised," says his sister, " that but little conversation 
on the subject of the removal of this dear brother passed 
between him and us. The fact is, to us the suggestion 
of the idea was agonizing; he knew how we loved him, 


and, when he remotely hinted at it, he saw the pain 
which it occasioned. This was the reason why so little 
was said. But often he took occasion to speak of the 
happiness of the saints in light. One Sunday evening 
in particular, when we were setting alone in ««ritttle 
room in the Pines, how sweetly did he discourse on the 
privilege of being called home in the season of youth, 
of the blessed employments of Heaven, and of the sin- 
fulness and selfishness of immoderate sorrow for the 
loss of those whom we did not doubt were before the 
Throne of God." 

He returned from the excursion on the 12th Septem- 
ber, and, through the pleasant weather of the fall, liis 
health was thought to be certainly improving, and a 
strong hope was entertained, that his passing the 
winter in a warmer climate would, with the Di- 
vine blessing, improve, if not entirely restore it. "Ac- 
cordingly, on the 5th of November, he left home for 
Savannah. The parting was most painful to us alb Our 
trust was in God alone, to preserve and restore us again 
to each other. All this time my dear brother preserved 
the utmost composure. He seemed to indulge a faint 
hope that his journey might be of benefit, and with that 
hope, wished rather to go than not, though he said, per- 
haps it would be better for me, as Dr. Alexander once 
observed of persons surprised by an ill-turn, to set my 
house in order, and prepare to die, instead of travelling 
abroad seeking health. He took with him some suitable 
books, but never opened them. The Bible alone, of all 
books, interested liim. While he had strength, nothing 


prevented him from perusing it daily with meditation, 
and oflen it was read to him at his request. At these 
times his remarks were most edifying and beautiful. 
On religious subjects he continued to the last to speak 
with animation. His missionary views did not decline 
with his health. He frequently expressed regret that 
he was leading so useless and inactive a life, and that 
he did not feel that zeal for God that he once felt. 
It was observed to him, that he was now incapable of 
active exertion from weakness; but that if he had 
strength, he would, no doubt, be as ready to engage in it 
as ever; which he admitted might, perhaps, be the case. 
"He sailed from New Castle November 7th, and was 
favoured with a mild, short passage. At sea he was 
subjected to many inconveniences, of which, however, 
he never complained; but which, as an invalid, he must 
have felt sensibly. He arrived at Savannah on Sunday 
evening 15th, and went to reside in the family of a friend 
and physician. He appeared to have taken no cold at 
this time, from which favourable conclusions were 
drawn, much as he had been unavoidably exposed on 
board, and in landing, and the weather had been cool 
and rainy. In a day or two, however, he raised a small 
quantity of blood; from that time he was subject to 
hoarseness and some degree of oppression at the breast 
in damp weather, from which he always recovered as 
soon as it became clear. Every fine day he either rode 
or walked out, and though all saw how weak he was, it 
was still hoped he would soon become stronger, as his 
symptoms had assumed a favourable appearance. The 
A a 


week preceding the last of his life, he walked out with 
more pleasure and less fatigue than he had since our ar- 
rival. At this time the weather changed most unfavour- 
ably; it was very damp and cold, such a season as had 
not been known there for many years. This was too 
much for his weak frame to endure. He soon com- 
plained of a pain in his side, and a difficulty of breath- 
ing. On Tuesday morning he came down stairs, while 
the family were at breakfast ; appeared to be weak, and 
ate but little. His mind, through the whole of his last 
day upon earthy seemed quite abstracted from the world. 
He spoke with great difficulty; not without drawing a 
breath between every word. He asked Dr. K. when he 
came in, to look at what he had expectorated. He before 
said that he thought it was ulcerated matter. The Dr. 
told him it was ; he heard this without the least change 
of countenance, and seemed to think the time of his 
departure near. He said to his sister, as she sat by him, 
It seems as if the Lord's blessing lias not attended our 
coming here. It would be almost impossible to give an 
idea of his appearance and manner through this day. 
He suffered great pain ; but unless he had been asked, 
none of us would have known it. Not a single com- 
plaining word escaped him, nor any expression of suf- 
fering. Several times through this day he took medi- 
cine. At dinner and tea he occupied his usual place, 
though he eat but little. It was evident through the 
whole day that his illness had increased. In the even- 
ing the family all retired. During this time he said but 
little, but did not sleep. He sometimes inquired the 


hour, and between one and two, asked if it was not time 
for the Doctor to come in. The Doctor was called. His 
patient was evidently worse, and did not appear to have 
sufficient strength to raise the phlegm which oppressed 
him. As his sister leaned over him, he said in a low, 
inarticulate tone, "/ hope it will please God to release 
me soon." How hard was the struggle to part with 
such a brother ! But strength and resignation were 
given. She told him she hoped he would soon be re- 
lieved. He said I do not hope that, but that I may be 
released. She asked if it was because he suffered so 
much. He replied, I am afraid it is. He was told that 
he had no cause to think so, that he had always been 
resigned to the Lord's will. I was not prepared to die 
so soon, said he, that is, from the nature of his symp- 
toms, he had not been prepared to expect his removal so 
speedily. When the Saviour, the Rock of Ages, on which 
he had rested, and the glories of that world to which he 
was soon to be introduced, were mentioned to him, and 
he was asked if he had not a good hope of acceptance 
through Christ, "Oh, yes !" he replied. On being asked 
if he had any thing to say to his dear family at home, 
he answered nothing very particular at this moment ; 
give my love to all the dear children, and tell them to 
prepare for death. He then said, give me time to pray. 
For several moments he was engaged in earnest prayer. 
His voice was so low that his sister could understand but 
little of what he said ; the tenor of it was in humility, 
confessing himself to have been unfaithful and sinful, un- 
worthy of mercy, but hoping for it through the blood of 


his Redeemer. At this time his eyes were closed, 
but the serenity of his countenance was not for a mo- 
ment disturbed. He sunk rapidly, and spoke no more, 
nor opened his eyes again upon the world. "I would 
not," says his afflicted sister, " interrupt (by speaking to 
him) the peacefulness of his departing spirit." During 
the last fifteen minutes his breathing was scarcely per- 
ceptible ; and it was difficult to say whether he was an 
inhabitant of this or a brighter world. On Wednesday, 
A. M. at quarter before 4 o'clock, the 23d of December, 
he was released. He feel asleep in Jesus. Truly " the 
righteous hath hope in his death." We can adopt for 
him the language of his favourite hymn, 

" Jesus can make a dying bed 

Feel soft aa downy pillows are, 
While on his breast I lean my head, 

And breathe my life out sweetly there."