We placed her in Friends’ burying-ground; and, though we marked it not, I could take thee to it in the night, so well I know the spot. At home for many hours I lay—a stupor on me came; The only sound that roused me up was mention of her name. And then Friend Scudder and his wife, who stood beside me, said, “Who does his living duty pays most honor to the dead.” Three weeks had passed; it was the night at close of Christmas-day— So the world’s people name it—when, in all of war’s array, But silently and cautiously, a force at nightfall came And seized what few bateaux there were; they took my skiff the same. And then I knew the wrath of God was gathering round to fall Upon the hireling Hessian force, and its commander, Rahl. The spirit moved within me then; I sought out him who led The soldiers in the battle, and thus to the man I said, “Friend Washington, although thee knows that Friends are men of peace, Who pray continual night and day this bloody strife may cease, Yet it is given unto me that I should go this night And cross the stream with these thy friends to guide their steps aright.” The general looked at me well pleased. “You meet us in our need; The way is plain, but such a night our footsteps might mislead. Get him a musket, Baylor.” But I quickly answered “Nay! The carnal weapon suits me not; I have a better stay. Unarmed I go before thy men when once the stream be crossed, And, though the air be black with storm, our path shall not be lost.” They then embarked the soldiers, ’mid the blinding snow and hail; They struggled with the driven ice, the current, and the gale; And much I marvelled, as I gazed upon the piteous sight, What men endure when in a cause that they consider right; For nearly all were poorly clad to meet the biting air: Some were half naked in the ranks, and some with feet all bare. And back and forth the boats were sent upon the watery way, So long that when we all had crossed the sky was tinged with grey. Right on we marched to Birmingham, a moment there made stand, Then broke in two divisions which filed off on either hand. One half, with Washington and Greene, the old Scotch highway chose; The other took the river road—I went ahead of those. Before we parted, some one came and said to Washington, “The priming in the guns is wet; what now is to be done?” “Then let them use the bayonet!” was his answer to the man; At which a hum of confidence among the soldiers ran. All filled with silent, stern resolve, they strode so proudly then, I knew they would before the foe acquit themselves like men.