an humble, holy walk with God, had gone to the grave with brighter evidence of meeting Christ at h/is coming in glory, than Jacob Hodges.
In the month of May last, the anniversary of the American Prison Discipline Society was held in the city of Boston I was invited to be present, in consequence of my past relation and intimate acquaintance with Jacob.
Jacob's "prison Bible," which he had bequeathed to his friend, Mr. Dwight, arrived just before the exercises were commenced. This was the Bible which had been the only companion of his dreary cell. The only book he ever read. That Bible, which had rested by his head while he slept, "that had guided him to Christ; dear to him almost as his own soul." It was hold up before a crowded congregation; it demanded no superstitious reverence, as a consecrated relic, but deeply impressed upon every beholder the preciousness and power of the truth
