Rash's Surname Index
Notes for Thomas SHIPLEY
Thomas Shipley, of Phila., conspicuous for his warm interest in the colored people in the early part of this century, and at a time when they sorely needed friends. He was the President of the Pennsylvania Society for the Abolition of Slavery, and the relief of free negroes unlawfully held in bondage. This society was founded by Benjamin Franklin, and he was its first President. Thomas Shipley d. 1836, and was followed to the grave by a vast concourse of colored people, whose interest and love for their benefactor were conspicuously shown on the occasion of his funeral. He was the subject of one of the memorial poems by John G. Whittier, which is widely known as one of his best pieces of this character.
To the Memory of Thomas Shipley
President of the Pennsylvania Abolition Society, who died 17 Sep. 1836,
a devoted Christian and philanthropist.
--John Greenleaf Whittier
Gone to the Heavenly Father's Rest!
The flowers of Eden round thee blowing!
And on thine ear the murmurs blest
Of Shiloah's waters softly flowing!
Beneath that Tree of Life which gives
To all the earth its healing leaves!
In the white robe of angels clad!
And wandering by that sacred river,
Whose streams of holiness make glad
The city of our God forever!
Gentlest of spirits! -- not for thee
Our tears are shed -- our sighs are given:
Why mourn to know thou art a free
Partaker of the joys of Heaven?
Finish'd thy work, and kept thy faith
In Christian firmness unto death:
And beautiful as sky and earth,
When Autumn's sun is downward going,
The blessed memory of thy worth
Around thy place of slumber glowing!
But woe for us! who linger still
With feebler strength and hearts less lowly
And minds less steadfast to the will
Of Him whose every work is holy.
For not like thine, is crucified
The spirit of our human pride:
And at the bondman's tale of woe,
And for the outcast and forsaken,
Not warm like thine, but cold and slow,
Our weaker sympathies awaken.
Darkly upon our struggling way
The storm of human hate is sweeping;
Hunted and branded, and a prey,
Our watch amidst the darkness keeping!
Oh! for that hidden strength which can
Nerve unto death the inner man!
Oh! for thy spirit, tried and true,
Prepared to suffer, or to do
In meekness and in self-denial.
Oh! for that spirit, meek and mild,
Derided, spurn'd, yet uncomplaining--
By man deserted and reviled,
Yet faithful to its trust remaining.
Still prompt and resolute to save
From scourge and chain the hunted slave!
Unwavering in the Truth's defence,
Even where the fires of Hate are burning.
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