According to an edition of the British Weekly, in the late summer of 1847, after preaching his final sermon, knowing his time on earth was drawing to a close, Henry Francis Lyte “walked in the valley garden in front of the home, then down to the rocks, where he sat and composed. It was a lovely sunny day and the sun was setting over distant Dartmoor in a blaze of glory. On the left lay Brixham harbor like a pool of molten gold, with its picturesque trawling vessels lying peacefully at anchor. After the sun had set, Lyte returned to his study.