The Life and Letters of the Rev. George Mortimer, M.A.: Rector of Thornhill, in the Diocese of Toronto, Canada WestArmstrong, John
Religion
The Life and Letters of the Rev. George Mortimer, M.A.: Rector of Thornhill, in the Diocese of Toronto, Canada West
Armstrong, John
Mortimer, George, 1784-1844
these daily petitions was, that he might have an easy death, if
consistent with the will of God. This petition was answered by his
Heavenly Father in a striking manner, for our kind friend and physician
assured us, that he suffered _no pain_, not even so much as a person
experiences in fainting. It is also remarkable, as Dr. Paget mentioned
to us, that in no other way could his existence have been terminated with
this absence of pain, except by a stroke of lightning. The doctor also
considered it remarkable that he survived so long after the fatal
accident, as instant death frequently occurs under such circumstances.
That such was not his case was an unspeakable comfort to us; and he
himself expressed his satisfaction at being brought home to his own
comfortable bed. He also stated his thankfulness for the circumstance of
no bone being broken, or even dislocated, and quoted that passage of
Scripture, “He keepeth all his bones, not one of them is broken.” This
was before he was aware of the fatal nature of the accident. He
expressed a wish to be left alone that he might be quiet, and we all left
the room in consequence, except Arthur and Dr. Paget. We had no idea
that any danger was to be apprehended, till a few moments before he
expired, when he sent for us, asking for each by name, and for the
servants also. He said he thought he was dying, and added, “Do not be
surprised if I should struggle at the last.” Immediately after he said,
“What a salvation is that which Christ has purchased for us; what a
blessing that I have nothing to do now! My dear flock, may the Lord
bless them all, and provide for them!” Then seeing us all around him, he
said to each, “May the Lord bless you.” These were his last words,
except the expression of his wish to lie down. I supported his head on
my arm, and thought that he was falling asleep—but no, it was the sleep
of death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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