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74
Moffat the Missionary.
AUGUST 8TH, 1883.
I heard that old Arch-Missionary say:—
“Grant me no Heaven to lose, no Hell to gain,
But give me youth, I every nerve would strain
To succour poor down-trodden Africa!”
Hero and priest, albeit thy locks are grey,
Thy hand, that fear and constant need did train,
That swayed a nation, clutched the lion's mane,
And strangled serpents, is as swift to-day?
“Grant me no Heaven to lose, no Hell to gain,
But give me youth, I every nerve would strain
To succour poor down-trodden Africa!”
Hero and priest, albeit thy locks are grey,
Thy hand, that fear and constant need did train,
That swayed a nation, clutched the lion's mane,
And strangled serpents, is as swift to-day?
We see thee ward the arrow, frame the plow,
Plead for God's Peace where chafing warriors sit,
Thine own tongue lost in exile, hardly thou
To our dull prose their poet-words dost fit!
While from the caves, beneath that tower of brow,
Flash the twin lamps Christ's quenchless love has lit!
Plead for God's Peace where chafing warriors sit,
Thine own tongue lost in exile, hardly thou
To our dull prose their poet-words dost fit!
While from the caves, beneath that tower of brow,
Flash the twin lamps Christ's quenchless love has lit!
This sonnet was written after hearing Dr. Moffat address a great missionary gathering in the Colston Hall at Bristol, September 22nd, 1876. Those who are familiar with this heroic missionary's life will remember the incidents of his adventures with the wild beasts in Bechuanaland which are noticed in the sonnet.
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