The vital data of this good preacher failed to come in answer to earnest requests. It is probable that he was associated with the Christian Denomination, but he preached for a few of the churches of Christ in Madison County, III., in the early seventies. Later he served some kindred congregations in western Pennsylvania. He was then an aged and feeble man. In answer to protests against his holding to his ministry under such conditions, he replied that he wished to go on to the close of his earthly life. Let the following poem (his production) be his memorial. It was popular for a long period and is worth preserving. The writer is indebted to Min. A. J. Carrick, Montezuma, Ia., for these copies:
I came to the spot where White Pilgrim lay
And pensively stood by his tomb
When, in a low whisper, I heard something say:
"How sweetly I sleep here alone.
"The tempest may howl and the loud thunders roll
And gathering storms may arise;
Yet calm are my feelings, at rest is my soul,
The tears are all wiped from my eyes.
"The cause of my Master impelled me from home,
I bade my companion farewell:
I left my sweet children who for me now mourn,
In far distant regions to dwell.
I wandered an exile and stranger below,
To publish salvation abroad;
The trump of the gospel endeavor to blow,
Inviting poor sinners to God.
"But when among strangers, and far from my home,
No kindred or relative nigh,
I met the contagion and sank in the tomb,
My spirit to mansions on high.
"Go tell my companion and children most dear,
To weep not for Joseph, though gone;
The same hand that led me through scenes dark and drear,
Has kindly conducted me home."
I called at the house of the mourner below,
I entered the mansion of grief;
The tears of deep sorrow most freely did flow;
I tried, but could give no relief.
There sat a lone widow, dejected and sad,
By affliction and sorrow oppressed
And there were her children in mourning arrayed
And sighs were escaping their breast.
I spoke to the widow concerning her grief,
I asked her the cause of her woe
And if there was nothing to give her relief
Or soothe her deep sorrows below.
She looked at her children, then looked upon me
(That look I shall never forget),
More eloquent far than a seraph could be
It spoke of the trials she met.
"The hand of affliction falls heavily now,
I'm left with my children to mourn
The friend of my youth lies silent and low
In yonder cold graveyard alone.
"But why should I murmur or feel to complain,
Or think that my portion is hard?
Have I met with affliction? 'Tis surely his gain--
He has entered the joy of his Lord."
Bibliographical Note: An autobiography of John Ellis was published in 1895 but Haynes was not aware of its existence. Here are the details: Autobiography and Poems of Elder John Ellis, Traveling Minister of the Lord Jesus Christ for over Sixty-one Years. Springfield, Ohio: Press of the New Era Co., 1895. 99 pages; frontispiece portrait.