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While Major Andre' was awaiting his execution, he seems to have given serious thought to eternal matters. Doubtless he recalled his early training given him by his Huguenot parents who had found spiritual refuge in England. Until he faced death, Andre' had lived the usual social life of an army officer -- one continuous whirl of gay functions, but his capture and trial changed all of that. Death for him was but a matter of days.

In repentance and faith, he turned to that blessed One who had long before said, "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out." -- John 6:37 Major Andre' found there was amazing grace even for him, and he tasted the fruits of conversion -- joy and peace in believing after full repentance. This is set forth wonderfully in his own words in a poem, "My Hiding Place," found in his pocket after he was hanged at Tappan, New York, October 2, 1780. Here is the poem.

Hail, sovereign love, which first began
The scheme to rescue fallen man!
Hail, matchless, free, eternal grace,
Which gave my soul a Hiding Place

Against the God who built the sky
I fought with hands uplifted high --
Despised the mention of His grace,
Too proud to seek a Hiding Place.

Enwrapt in thick Egyptian night,
And fond of darkness more than light,
Madly I ran the sinful race,
Secure -- without a Hiding Place!

But thus the eternal counsel ran:
Almighty love, arrest that man!
I felt the arrows of distress,
And found I had no Hiding Place.

Indignant Justice stood in view;
To Sinai's fiery mount I flew;
But Justice cried with frowning face,
This mountain is no Hiding Place!

Ere long a heavenly voice I heard,
And mercy's angel soon appeared:
He led me, with a beaming face
To JESUS as a Hiding Place.

On Him almighty vengeance fell,
Which must have sunk a world to hell!
He bore it for a sinful race,
And thus became our Hiding Place.

Should sevenfold storms of thunder roll,
And shake this globe from pole to pole,
No thunderbolt shall daunt my face,
For Jesus is my Hiding Place.

A few more setting suns at most
Shall land me on that glorious coast,
Where I shall sing the song of grace,
And see my glorious Hiding Place!

Great stuff...thanks for posting. Andre was a large personality that was a man whom others liked. Washington felt terrible about having to execute him, but refused to grant him a firing squad (which was more honorable) and had him hung like a spy (if he were captured in uniform, he would have been--most likely--executed by firing squad).

In 1985, on a visit to England, I was on the second floor of Westminster Abbey and turning a corner, bumped into a wooden box on the floor against a railing...I read the writing on the box and it was the bones of Major John Andre. I will never forget that.