 | Walden's Sacred Poems |  |
NOTE OF COMMENDATION.
Mr. Islay Walden, the author of the hymns in this little book has, for the past year, attended lectures in the Theological Seminary of the Reformed Church at New Brunswick. He is struggling against many difficulties to prepare himself for pastoral work among the Freedmen of the South. By the sale of this book, Mr. Walden hopes to be assisted on his way to the holy ministry. A kind reception is bespoken for him.
INTRODUCTION.
Islay Walden, the author of this little book of poems, was born a slave in North Carolina.
He is now a student in the Theological Seminary at New Brunswick, N. J.
As the story of his struggles can not fail to commend him to the sympathy and encouragement of all who admire perseverance and a strong christian faith, and may give additional interest to the perusal of his “poems” a brief sketch of his life is here given.
His youth was passed on different North Carolina plantations; he having been sold from the auction block several times—twice while an infant in his mother's arms. His duties were the usual ones assigned to young slaves—house work, the lighter kinds of field work, &c.—until he discovered a remarkable talent to which he gives the Yankee term of “reckoning.” The possession of this talent was as mysterious as that of “Blind Tom's” for music, as he had received no instruction and could not explain his mental processes. This faculty gained him the favor of his master and he was often called in to “show off” before company—his master generally betting on his ability to solve problems proposed.
His first poem was called forth by the death of an ox, which was thrown into the shaft of a
He died quick,
He died all in a minute:
Here is a shaft thirty feet,
And we have thrown him in it.
And he is dead.
The buzzards may forsake him;
For he is buried thirty feet
Where they can never get him.”
His master said, “Walden, you are a poet.” “What is a poet?” answered Walden. “One who writes poetry,” and this also had to be explained by referring to the hymns which Walden knew, as examples of poetry.
Soon after this came the news of Lee's surrender. Walden was working at a mine when his master came riding by, and calling out to him, said, “Islay, have you heard the news?” “No, sir,” said Islay, “what is the news?” “Well, you are free,—Lee has surrendered to Grant.”
It had been the wish of his mother that he should become a minister, and as his own convictions of duty pointed in the same direction, he lost no time, now that he was his own master, in starting on his long walk northward determined to get an education. It was in the middle of winter, and snow fell almost every day for weeks; he was poorly clad and without money, and finally became sick and was compelled to take refuge in Richmond hospital where he was confined several weeks. But, still undiscouraged, he pressed on to Washington.
But his labors in Washington were not all selfish. He established Sunday Schools in the most vicious neighborhoods where hundreds of the poor and degraded colored children were gathered. His labors in this direction are warmly commended by a christian gentleman then in the office of Paymaster General of the War Department, and by others prominent in christian work. While on his way through Pennsylvania, after leaving Washington he hit upon a new device for earning money. He committed to memory several chapters of a text book on anatomy. Then on his arrival in a town he would announce a lecture on Anatomy and Hygiene, which he would generally deliver in the open air, sometimes in small churches and halls. After the lecture he would take up a collection and sell his poems of which he now had quite a number. In this way he sustained himself, travelling through Pennsylvania and New Jersey as far as New Brunswick, where it was his fortune to fall into good hands. Through the efforts of one of the Professors of Rutgers College, a promise of pecuniary aid was obtained from the Second Reformed Church, and Walden returned to Washington and entered Howard University where he completed the course of instruction. He is now, as before stated, attending the Theological Seminary of the Reformed Church at New Brunswick, N. J.
I have gleaned these few facts from Walden's own narrative as the ones most likely to be of interest to the indulgent reader; and, I may add, my daily observation of his character for the past year has left no doubt in my mind of their strict truthfulness. His story and his future work alike appeal to the generosity of all who wish well to his race.
The Healing Stream.
Comes flowing from Thy side;
I see Thee hanging on the cross,
I see Thy garments dyed,
How rich that blood must be,
Which can atone for all the world—
Which doth atone for me!
To gladden every eye,
'Till every cloud has disappeared
Of sin beneath the sky!
And reigns in Heaven above;
'Till all the nations feel and know
That God is only love.
With neither pain nor fear;
Until we feel His loving hand
Removing every tear.
Thy holy name to praise;
With harps and voices sounding sweet,
In everlasting lays.
The Third Psalm.
What can the reason be,
Oh why should they against me rise
Or seek to trouble me?
In God,” the all in all,
With longing eyes they look to see
Both king and kingdom fall.
This thing they shall not see,
For Thou the glory of my life,
My strength and shield shalt be.
And listen to my cry,
Thou wilt not slight a humble prayer,
When it ascends the sky.
Thy gracious hand sustains,
And when I wake to see the light
Thy love with me remains.
Ten thousand though they be,
Who disregard Thy holy One,
Or thus encompass me.
My foes by Thee are slain,
Their teeth and cheek bones broken are
For all their works are vain.
The earth and sea are thine,
Nor blessed can the people be,
But through the kingly line.
The Anointed One.
Who wilt Thy saints reward,
I would be absent from the flesh,
And present with the Lord.
And let me, Lord, obey:
Yet I would hear Thee bid me come;
Why should I from Thee stay?
I love Thy gospel grace,
I love to think, O Lord, that I
Am of Thy chosen race.
Let all the people sing,
And every nation join to praise,
Their Prophet, Priest and King;
For us he prophesied,
And now He stands and intercedes
For whom He bled and died.
Which is from sea to sea!
How great are all His gifts of grace,
Which He imparts to me!
Morning Prayer for Children.
Arise to see the morning sun.
Help me, dear Lord, that at the close
Of day, my duties may be done.
And for these golden rays of light;
For every gift of grace bestowed
And guardian angels of the night.
Thou shalt be pleased to call me hence,
Thou art my strength, my all in life,
In death thou art my strong defence.
Evening Prayer for Children.
Dear Lord I bow and pray
That Thou wilt keep me while I sleep
As Thou dost through the day.
Nor evil near my bed,
Nor that I should be hurried hence
And numbered with the dead.
Refreshed from every care;
That I may bow and pray again,
And feel Thee ever near.
Second Psalm
First Part.
Or vanity the people know?
Or why should kings together sit
And rulers to their councils go?
Messiah's reign to thus oppose?
Or why His bands assunder break
And cast His cords unto his foes?
Shall He not laugh their deeds to scorn,
And in their hearts vex them with wrath,
That He may all the Future warn?
That Zion's King shall ever reign;
This day have I begotten Thee,
And I this day will Thee ordain.
Second Psalm
Second Part.
To Thee each tribe and nation;
And by Thy power, they shall be
Raised up from degradation.
And dash them all asunder;
And then, my Son, Thy glorious reign
Shall cause the world to wonder.
And, from all evil turning,
Let judges, too, instructed be,
And find in Thee their learning.
In love shall they assemble;
Shall bow and worship at His feet,
And each rejoice and tremble.
And to Him be returning;
Lest ye shall perish by the way,
Whene'er His wrath is burning.
Whose hearts are free from wav'ring;
Who trusted in the “Holy One,”
Who is His people saving.
The Christian's Consolation.
A sinner poor and blind,
And in my Saviour's righteousness
May I salvation find.
And He's my all in all,
For me He interposed His blood,
When ruined by the fall.
On His eternal Throne,
For reasons that I cannot tell
He claimed me as His own.
That there was good in me,
That I should have elected been
To all eternity?
I'm wretched and undone,
And, Father, all my hope doth hang
On Thy eternal Son.
And creatures must respect,
The just Creator's right to reign—
His power to elect.
Let no one disbelieve,
That though He doth elect His own
The seeker shall receive.
The Repenting Sinner.
Though I'm wretched, weak and blind
Yet the day of grace extended,
Proved Him merciful and kind.
'Gainst my holy God and King,
Thus behold His lordly splendor
When to Him I pray and sing.
Though my sins are fierce and wild,
Yet He has His wrath suspended,
He's my father, I'm his child.
And my heart is cold and stern,
Yet the Saviour will be tender,
If to Him I look and turn.
And my sins do grieve me sore,
Yet His love has far transcended
In the cross my Saviour bore.
If to me He's reconciled,
Though my heart I long have hardened,
He adopts me as a child.
While He is the sinners all?
For to each His love's extended—
Everyone that God doth call.
A Prayer of Reflection.
And strengthen me to pray;
Condemn me not to death at last,
But lead me in Thy way.
Thine eyes count every tear,
And every sigh and every groan
Attracts Thy listening ear.
Behold my wearied soul,
And help me while I try to reach
The final, heavenly goal.
Nor can a sinner find,
A sweeter word than Thy blest name,
O saviour of mankind!
Or caused one soul to sin,
O cleanse me with Thy Holy blood,
Nor let me err again.
Where I can never fall;
To join the everlasting throng,
And crown Thee Lord of all.
The Kingdom of Christ.
King Jesus reigns from land to land;
He comes to make His mission known,
He comes to rule on Zion's throne.
He dies, He lies within the grave;
And from that tomb He doth arise,
Triumphantly into the skies.
Captivity He captive led;
O glorious Saviour, King of Kings!
Who to the earth salvation brings.
The mighty nations of the land,
Until earth's nations shall become
United—an eternal one.
Shall reign supremely on Thy throne;
When princedoms shall before Him fall,
We'll crown Him Saviour, Lord of all.
The Transition.
Are ever gliding by;
They bear my body to the tomb,
My spirit to the sky.
Which is and is no more.
'Tis like the struggle of a wave
To reach some distant shore.
Strong billows o'er it surge;
Its drops are scattered far and wide
Ere it can reach the verge.
Nor will it more arise,
'Till nature shall its vapors bear
To mingle in the skies.
On earth I cannot stay!
My soul returns to God who gave,
My body to the clay!
Which pass from mortal sight,
To dwell in one eternal day,
Or one eternal night.
Whose parts can never meet,
Except it be by chance when they
Shall mingle in the deep?
Upon the last great day;
My spirit from its God shall come,
My body from the clay.
Eternally in one.
Yes, in the likeness of my God
The image of His son.
Love for God's Name.
And all Thy blessings too;
I will take heed to all my ways,
And what I speak or do.
And every note's a charm;
Because creation is upheld
By Thy Almighty arm.
To me there's naught so sweet:
While angels worship round thy throne,
I'll worship at Thy feet.
Is all in heaven above;
And in Thy holy word, we know
That Thou art only love.
| Walden's Sacred Poems | |