A noble ship is waiting for the gale
To blow from land and fill the idle sail,
To waft her from Columbia's happy shore;
With noblest freight a vessel ever bore:
Not gold, or pearls, rich fabrics of the loom,
Golconda's gems, or Araby's perfume;
But hearts that feel for those who sit beneath
The fearful shadows of the vale of death;
Who fain would bear the gospel's glorious light,
To chase the gloom of error's fearful night.
'Tis Judson! gladly bearing in his hands
The word of life, to bless those distant lands,
Where superstition lights the dreadful fire
Where, by the dead, the living must expire,
And bids the mother, her own soul to save,
Cast her sweet infant into Ganges' wave:
Where the dread car of Juggernaut we see,
Crushing to death the blinded devotee,
Who vainly hopes immortal bliss to gain
In virtue of his self-inflicted pain:
And where the child, with cold, averted eye,
Can leave the parent unconsoled to die.
Benighted Burmah! there is hope for thee;
The words he bears shall set thy children free
From superstition's dark and bloody reign,
And bring unnumbered blessings in their train.
No more the Suttee's dreadful flame shall glow;
No infant's wail break Ganges' solemn flow;
With pious care shall children kindly close
Their parents' eyes, in death's calm, deep repose;
And give them what, before, they never gave--
In holy trust, a consecrated grave.
Temples where late most horrid rites were seen,
Shall soon present a soul-inspiring scene;
Beneath their domes shall sound God's holy word;
And the sweet tones of Zion's songs be heard.
The Hindoo shall from idols turn away,
And to the true God shall devoutly pray.
From thousand eyes shall fall the film of sin,
New hopes be born, and purer joys begin; [415]
Vice hide her face, and through that happy land,
The smiling virtues shall walk hand in hand.
But not alone braves he the wave and storm:
Beside him stands a woman's gentle form;
Her eyes are fixed upon the distant shore,
Where stand the loved ones she may see no more;
And at that moment, thronging round her, come,
The dear, delightful memories of home.
A mother's kind, self sacrificing care,
Her sister's song, her father's fervent prayer,
The joys of all life's sunny, sinless years,
Before her eyes were dimmed by sorrow's tears--
The bower, where he who now stands by her side,
Won her consent to be his faithful bride--
These like a torrent rush upon her soul;
Her pent up tears she can no more control.
While falls the flood which cannot be repressed,
The husband thus the weeping wife addressed:
"Thou weepest, love, that we must leave behind
Friends, such as whom we ne'er again may find;
Our native land, and all the heart holds dear,
Full well may claim the warm, unbidden tear;
But oh! 'tis noble, thus to break those ties
Affection wove, and tender sympathies,
And let our souls assume a purer tone,
Than those who seek to live for self alone.
While here on earth our blessed Master stood,
He found his highest joy in doing good.
Let us be like him; darkened Burmah see
Imploring cries, oh! come and set me free.
The truths we bear, can loose the chains that bind
In doubt, and gloom, her hapless children's mind.
Those truths will be like that life-giving breath,
Which once passed through the fearful vale of death;
And back to life and beauty brought again
The bones of all that mighty host of slain.
And oh! to be the happy instruments
By which those tidings of great joy are sent,
Is bliss the purest mortal heart may know
While making this sad pilgrimage below:
Yet such is ours, and sweeter, pure bliss
Our souls can never taste on earth than this.
For thus to mortal hands the task is given,
Which once employed the shining ones of heaven. [416]
Smiling through tears, she said, "Thy toils to share,
To sooth thy sorrows, soften every care,
In that far land, shall be my sweet employ,
To aid thy labors be my dearest joy.
A holy work it is, near thee to stand,
And teach the daughters of that distant land
From dark idolatry to turn away,
And to a living Saviour humbly pray.
Whate'er thy lot, my happiness shall be
With thee to dwell, and share that lot with thee:
Happy if I a single care beguile,
And o'er that brow of thought cast one sweet smile."
Turning, he strained her to his manly breast,
And said, "In thee I now am doubly blest;
A help-mate true and faithful, now thou art
Dearer than e'er before to this fond heart:
One now in holy toil on earth to be;
One in reward, in bright eternity."
A favoring gale arose, and bore them on--
In zeal, in toil, in holy purpose, one.
Ne'er did they falter in the noble strife--
That godly man and his devoted wife.
Their labors ended, now they sweetly sleep--
She in the earth, he in the stormy deep.
Not the flushed victor such high pleasure feels,
When dragging princes at his chariot wheels--
When thousands follow his triumphal car,
Decked with the gleaming spoils of glorious war,
And shout all hail!--as those who on the sight
Of dying men have poured heaven's fadeless light.
They knew the sentence, "dust must turn to dust!"
But laid them down in glorious hope and trust,
That they at last will from the grave arise,
And gain a home, eternal in the skies.
|
