University of Virginia Library

“RISE, King of Glory, rise, resume Thy throne,
And make the empires of the earth Thy own:
Awake, appear, to strike the scoffer dumb,
Assert Thy sway and bid Thy kingdom come.
How far shall guilt and violence advance?
How long deface Thy fair inheritance?
How long shall man Thy dignities invade,
And push Thee from the world which thou hast made?
O glorify Thyself! Our toils are vain,
And only mock the cause they would sustain.
But let that voice which through primeval night
Said from on high, “Be light,” and there was light,
Let that Almighty voice again be heard
To call the nations to their rightful Lord,
And prayer and praise on every wind shall rise,
And Thou be served on Earth as in the skies!”

Such were the vows that on the lonely side
Of Mississippi rose at eventide,
And mingled with the jackall's plaintive while,
And with the plash of rushing crocodile,
With the flamingo's scream, and with the breeze
Whose wild wing strayed thro' the magnolia trees,
And with the river walking on his way
Through nations. There before a hut of clay
Knelt an old man, and lifted up his prayer
To the Great Spirit, in whose service there
He long had laboured, zealous to proclaim
To Indian wastes, his Master's saving name,
Assert the honours of the dread “I am,”
And meeken down the wolf into the lamb.

Nor were his toils in vain. Behold yon green
Savannah, reaching down the woods between
To the broad flood, and mid the wilderness,
Smiling as sweet as Hope amid distress.
There neat inclosures rise, and cattle graze
And vineyards bloom, and spots of rice and maize
Dapple the slope, and from a hundred huts
The smoke in wreathy column upward juts;
And where the buskined hunter roved erewhile
Now harvests wave, and hanging gardens smile;
And where the wolf was howling in his den,
Ascends the social hum of busy men,
And Christian worship swells to God around
In language newly hallowed with the sound.

O'er that old man were forty summers flown,
Since from far lands to this wild spot alone
He came, and built his hut, and lodged his store
Among the prowlers of this lonely shore.
Those white locks then were jet, and that meek eye,
Which twinkles yet with immortality,
Looked living fire; and round his form and face
Glowed high romance, and dignity, and grace.
No common man, and with no common aim,
To his bold task the Missionary came;
And left whatever else was bright or dear,
To walk with God, and spread His Gospel here.

And lurked there no regret in that bright eye?
Stole from his bosom no half stifled sigh?
So young, so warm, so feeling as he was,
Thus quitting all, and taking up his cross,
Mid savage lands and men to live and die,
No friend but God, no home but in the sky?
No! He had known the world, had proved the worth
Of all that wears the stamp and hue of earth;
Had played deep with Experience, and had quaffed
From her stern cup a large and bitter draught:
And finding all was frail and false around,
He turned betimes to build on stabler ground:
Steered his poor skiff from life's tempestuous sea,
And sought a haven in Eternity.

In sooth he ill was fitted for the strife,
The storms, the buffetings, the stabs of life.
His ardent spirit was not formed to bear;
And his had been a step-son's portion there.
In early youth of both his parents reft,
To all the snares of rank and affluence left,
The boy grew up into a world of sin
With scarce a friend to guide his way therein.
His glowing mind to wild luxuriance ran;
His years passed on without an aim or plan:
Till into life he stepped at last, as wild,
As simple, and confiding as a child.

Yet deem him not, untutored as he was,
A thing of sense, a lump of clay and dross.
His heart was warm and open as the spring,
A rich toned lyre that thrilled through every string,
Alive to bliss, and prone to melt and move
At each appeal of friendship and of love.
He banqueted on music; and his taste
Was quick to all of beautiful aud chaste.
He looked on nature with a painter's eye,
And caught the soul of speaking poesy.
And though possessed of no outstanding trait
Which burthened memory cannot put away,
No character energic, bold, defined,
That haunts, and fills, and triumphs o'er, the mind;
Yet see him, hear him, and anon there stole
A spell around that rivetted the soul;
And a mysterious interest gradual grew,
Till all about him strange observance drew,
And round his influence breathed, and spread a tone
O'er other minds congenial with his own.

Such, and so circumstanced, it was his lot
To dwell with those who knew and prized him not.
His sphere was narrow. Fate had set him down
On the dull confines of a country town,
Where he was made the idol and the dupe
Of creatures to whose arts he scorned to stoop.
Thence friends thronged round him, and professions loud
And greeting smiles attended him. The cloud
Fled from all brows before him; and he moved
In every circle courted and beloved.
The ladies thought him sweetly sentimental:
Their mothers canvassed o'er his handsome rental.
And though all thought him odd, nay some said mad,
None could esteem his face or person bad,
And then how fine a property he had!
Sure a good spouse and jointure must await
The maid that might secure her such a mate.

Thus many a sigh was breathed, and not in vain.
There was one blue-eyed girl among the train,
Retiring, gentle, graceful, fair and tall,
Who bore the prize away from midst them all.
Little she said; but oh that eye!—that eye!—
What did it not in its blue archery?
He shrunk before it;—yet returned to ask
Permission in its milder light to bask;
Was heard,—received,—and nothing now there needs,
But fix the day, and draw the marriage deeds.

I say not how the hours from hence were spent;
I pass each sigh, and look and blandishment,
The air-built castle, the sequestered walk
With trembling arm-in-arm, and all the talk
'Bout poetry, and trees, and flowers, and skies,
And young Love's thousand hopes and phantasies;—
Nor can I tell how they had matched for life,
What husband he had made, and she what wife:
For when all else was settled, and there now
Remained but just the priest, and ring, and vow,
News came, that one, on whom, as on his soul,
He rested, and resigned to him the whole
Of his affairs, was fled, and with him bore
The bulk of all his patron owned before.

Pursuit was made,—in vain,—and clear away
The perjured villain carried off his prey;
And home his dupe returned, less keenly feeling
His loss of substance, than the traitorous dealing
Of one so loved. He felt that he had leant
Upon a faithless reed, that broke, and went
Into his heart. A sweet dream was dispelled;
A thousand beauteous fancies all were quelled:
The world lost half her lustre; her fair dress
Was rent, and through appeared her nakedness.
The tendrils of his heart, that wont to stretch
And twine round every object they could catch,
Were nipped, his sympathies were chilled, and fled
The curdling life blood to its fountain head.

But there was more to suffer. Ah! the crew
Were mean and base with whom he had to do!
Much had been proffered, and it was not much
To look for some concern, some kindly touch
Of sympathy to mitigate his shock:
But all fell off, like waves from round a rock.
They that were yesterday all cringe and bow,
Stared in his face, or swaggered past him now.
At once their smiles and welcomes and respect
Grew cold civility, or proud neglect.
He seemed a dead weight on their hands: his pelf
Was gone, and he a cypher in himself.

But there was yet one breast, where he might hide
His outcast head, though all were false beside;
One faithful friend, one gentle comforter,
That would not shrink from him; and O it were
An Eden still to gather up the wrecks
Of his past wealth, and fly from all the checks
And wrongs of a bad world, and be with her
Beyond the reach of knave or flatterer,
Nestling in some sweet cottage far removed
From man's intrusion, loving and beloved!
On with such thoughts his pathway he pursued
Up to the well known door, his darker mood
Clearing and brightening as he went. At last
He reached the threshold, and would thence have passed
On to her presence as he wont; but there
A servant stops him ere he mounts the stair,
And begs, with many a scrape and bow, to say,
That his young mistress can't be seen to day.

A letter followed cold and brief, expressing
Her thanks for past attentions, and professing
A high esteem; but she regretted much,
That circumstances were no longer such
As would admit their union; and in fine,
She begged all future visits to decline.

It was enough. He now had known the worst:
He wept not, though his heart was nigh to burst:
He raved not, cursed not, though to both inclined;
But calmly turned his back upon mankind.
He made the woods his mate, and to the breeze
Poured out his spirit's baleful reveries.
He walked the mountain tops; and loved to lie
And follow the light clouds along the sky,
And shape and name them in his moods: he pryed
Into the cups of flowers; and o'er the side
Of streams would lean and watch the fish at play:
Or at the close of evening roam away
Among the dews, and linger till the sky
Grew beautiful with stars, and sounds from high
Came to him through the stillness of the night,
And his soul mingled with the infinite
And rose from earth; and here it was that first
Upon his intellectual darkness burst
The Majesty of God: amid the woods,
The solemn rocks, blue skies, and sounding floods
He grew familiar with Him, learnt to trace
His power, His love, His wisdom, and His grace,
From suns and planets down to the poor blade
That trembled at his foot. His spirit made
A friend of God; and with the flowers and birds
Breathed up a worship which no earthly words
Could adequately utter; till with Him
Conversing, this poor earth grew dark and dim;
And the large spirit bursting every bond,
Rose on immortal wing and soared beyond
The bounds of time and space, and joyed to roam,
And drink the glories of its native home;
And heavenly longings swelled within his breast,
And his heart thirsted for eternal rest.

“A few more suns and moons,” he thought, and then
A long farewell to earth and earthly men;
A full release from guilt, and guile, and woe,
And all the spirit weeps or fears below.
O it is joy to think the day shall be
When all chains will drop off, and we be free;
When every cloud shall pass from off our sky,
And every tear be wiped from every eye!
Roll on, ye seasons, bring that blessed time
Unstained with grief, unspotted with a crime!
O wheel this ruin of a world away,
And usher in that long bright Sabbath-day!”

There are fond hearts that cannot do without
Some object upon which they may pour out
Their overflowing love, and his was one;
And now that earthly objects all were gone,
He turned for such to Heaven; and there he gazed
Till every feeling was refined and raised
From earth, and he appeared to stand the last
Lone being of some generation past,
Longing and reaching to a better place,
With little wish to linger on his race;
For he had other aims and views than they
Through whose strange land his transient journey lay.
His eye was fixed on God; and there had dwelt
So long and earnestly, he almost felt
Identified with Him. God was his bliss;
God's glory, was his glory; God's cause his;
He had no being but in God; no rest
Nor happiness apart from Him. He blest
The very flower that breathed its balm on high,
And would not trample on it. In his eye
The poorest leaf grew precious, for it bore
The impress of Almighty hands: nay more,
The very scorn and hatred he had felt
To faithless men before, began to melt
Down into love and pity; for they were
Children of God's and objects of His care,
Although they knew Him not, they loved him not—
There was a desolation in that thought—
He could not brook to think there should be one
Who knew not Him his soul so hung upon:
And when he turned his eyes the world around,
And thought how many were to whom the sound
Of their Creator's name was all unknown,
His heart bled in him, and he longed to own
An angel's voice. He saw from every shore
Ten thousand hands outstretching to implore
His guidance, pleading for the sacred bread
On which his own more favored spirit fed;
And God's sweet promise fired him, “blessed they
Who feed my sheep, and gather those that stray.”

Then came the voice of prophecy, and told
Of whiter days, when all should be one fold
Under one shepherd; when the brows that bled
Beneath the platted thorns should wear instead
The crown of Glory, and descend to reign
O'er Earth subjected to her God again.
When Eden's hours once more on golden wing
Should visit man, Creation laugh and sing,
The billows clap their hands, and to the skies
On every wind glad hallelujahs rise,
Sorrow and sin, and violence, and fraud
Disperse before one kindling look from God,
And the Redeemed around their Saviour prove
On earth a foretaste of the joys above.

Musing on themes like these his soul took fire,
And sprung up in him an intense desire
To bear the cross to foreign lands, and dare
A Missionary's toils and dangers there.
A momentary pause, a passing swell
Of heart; a line to her he loved so well:
Then rose his sail before the vagrant wind,
And calm he left his native land behind.

“Beloved and lovely,” (thus his letter ran)
“Hear the last words of a devoted man.
I write not to implore, reproach, or grieve:
I simply send to say that I forgive:
Blest if that word from any pang may free
A heart I would not have distressed through me,
A heart round which I wish more joys to twine
Than thy repulse once seemed to snatch from mine.
But this is over now. My soul, though late,
Has found a nobler aim, a higher mate;
God is the object of my love; and I
Go forth to distant lands to lift on high
His glorious ensign. We no more shall meet,
Till thou shalt see me to their Judge's feet
Leadnig my little flock. O may this be
A joyful meeting to both thee and me!
May we be joined in better bonds than e'er
Our fondest thoughts anticipated here!
Farewell! my prayer shall rise when far away
For thy dear sake to Him I there obey;
And ah do thou at times a thought bestow
On him who scarce knows how to let thee go
So loved, so lost;—I feel I must not dwell
On themes like these; once more, Farewell, Farewell!

The bounding deep is passed, and lo he stands
A stranger now on Transatlantic lands,
Mid giant lakes, and streams, and woods, and plains,
Where nature in eternal grandeur reigns;
And as he passes through them to his charge,
He feels his spirit mount, his thoughts enlarge;
And “here indeed,” he cries, “are works of thine
Worthy Thyself, my God! These depths of pine
Are pathless but to Thee; to Thee these floods
Lift up their voices. In their various moods
Of terrible or tranquil they pourtray
Thy image, shew Thy majesty, and say
“Behold Omnipotence! And thou bright eye
Of heaven, thou Sun, that walkest here on high
A king indeed, methinks one look at thee
Were all enough to set the spirit free,
And chase the mists of error, and declare
The God whose minister thou standest there!”

So spake fond hope, so thought romantic youth,
But sage Experience told a sterner truth;
And many a toilsome day and sleepless night
Checked his enthusiast zeal, and set it right.
He learnt a simpler, soberer way to try,
And point by plainer precepts to the sky.
He settled mid a fierce uncultured train
Wild as the wind and lawless as the main;
And sought in vain for many a darkling year
To charm the deaf dull adder in their ear:
To raise to human what before was brute,
And lead the wanderers to their Saviour's foot.
He found them dark, the slaves of sin and sense,
Preoccupied with thoughts and aims intense,
Snatching from danger's lap their daily bread,
And hourly shaking hands with pain and dread,
Strong in delusion, proud, self-satisfied,
Married to earth, and spurning all beside.
Yet patience, perseverance, faith and prayer
Found in the end their promised blessing there;
And precept upon precept, line on line,
Awoke at length a sense of things divine:
Gave conscience a new sanction, and o'erawed
The rising passions with a present God.
Upon the night of many a heathen mind
The Sun of righteousness arose and shined,
And ushered in that morn serene and bright
Whose noon goes on into eternal light.
Rapine and force their wonted seats forsook,
The spear was changed into the pruning hook,
The heart of stone grew flesh, and mid the wild
The Arts and Charities sprung up and smiled.
Old Mississippi saw with proud surprise
The cot and vineyard on his side arise:
And smoothed his wave, and lingered in his race,
Young culture's footsteps on his banks to trace,
To kiss the all unwonted flowers, and hear
The voice of Christian worship swelling near;
Then sullen flung him onward to the main
To meet no more such sights and sounds again.

And ah what felt our Missionary there?
How looked he on the children of his care?
With what sensations did he watch and trace
The gradual progress of reclaiming grace?
And see the savage scene beneath his eye
Rise into life and form, and harmony?
'Twas bliss, but not for human tongue to shew;
'Twas pride akin to that which angels know
Tending their charge to Heaven, all unallied
To earth, and shaming every joy beside.
Here in an Eden of his own he moved,
And led the worship of the God he loved;
Brought the blind sight, and language to the dumb,
And saw the kingdom of his Father come.
Here undisturbed he mused on things above,
And praised amid His works the God of love;
To Him his voice arose with morning's light,
And when above his lonely hut at night
The wind made solemn music in the trees,
God came down to him walking on the breeze,
And brought him awful joy. And thus afar
From earthly heed or hindrance, care or jar
His life ran smoothly onward. God from high
Looked on his labors with approving eye,
The spirit loved within his breast to dwell,
And angels often whispered all is well.
With late and gentle call he was removed
Hence to the home he sought, the God he loved.
He closed his eyes to rest one happy night
To ope them wondering in eternal light.
Still may be seen on Mississippi's side
The little hut the good man occupied;
The old oak spreading o'er the grassy mound
From which he taught his people standing round.
And still the pious traveller loves to stay,
And kneel down by his lowly grave to pray,
And hear his converts tell with honest pride
How holily he lived, how calmly died.