Nor was pure praise neglected at this time:All were well pleased with that day's exercise.And freely joined in Zion's songs sublime,Thus pouring forth their evening sacrifice.This did but strengthen pre-existing ties,While warmer grew their hearts in Love's soft bands.At nine o'clock reluctantly they rise,To part at last with cordial shake of hands,More fitted for the coming day, with its demands.
I offer the above as a fair sampleOf this small Church's worship on First Days,And should be highly pleased if their exampleHad on our minds an influence always.Their love and zeal are worthy of all praise,Though all they have or are is of God's grace.His love to them they view with deep amaze,And trust ere long to see him face to faceIn heavenly Regions—His own happy Dwelling Place.
To spare the Reader risk of long digression,And keep within just bounds my humble tale,I now in order give GOODWORTH'S professionThat none to understand his views may fail.Against these views some men no doubt will rail,But let such take the Bible in their hands,And with Truth's weapons only them assail.This the importance of the thing demands,For by the Truth alone his doctrine falls or stands.
On Scriptural grounds of every Sinner's hopeHe held no wavering views, for Truth shone clearInto his soul, and gave him power to copeWith Error's darkest forms. He had no fearOf man before his eyes. The spiteful sneerOf Antinomians and proud PhariseesDisturbed him not, save to call forth a tearFrom heartfelt pity for the vagariesOf their perverted judgments touching God's decrees.
He held, then, that the Lord, who sees the endFrom the beginning, did of his own pure graceChoose some with him Eternity to spend,From 'mongst the millions of our fallen race,Determined all such should behold his faceIn peace at last, in spite of Hell and sin.These would in time his Gospel Truth embrace,Or die incapable for Faith within.Thus did he view the triumphs of God's Grace begin.
He saw God's Love—Superlative, Eternal,Gradually unfold the mysteryTo Man, who by Satanic schemes infernal,Had fall'n from happiness to misery.And he by Faith's keen eye could clearly seeIts full development when Jesus cameThe sinner's Surety and best Friend to be;Who "bore the Cross and still despised the Shame,"Nor shrank from God's just wrath—a fiercely burning flame.
Christ's glorious Resurrection too, he sawTo be God's stamp of approbation greatOn that vicarious work which his just LawFulfilled—a ground of hope commensurateTo man's great needs in every age and state.These truths so filled his warm and generous soulThat he on them would oft expatiateUntil his feelings seemed beyond control;And this secured attention from his hearers all.
Of man's free will he had not any doubt;Yet he as much believed the declarationOf God's own Word—which some men dare to flout—That man's heart is, in every rank and station,"Always deceitful," filled with profanation,"And desparately wicked." This none knowBut God, who has provided expiation,And sent his Holy Spirit down to showThese facts to sinners dead, and on them Life bestow.
On final perseverance of all SaintsHe took the highest stand which man can take,And found in it a balm for most complaintsOf Christian souls, to sense of sin awake.This glorious truth to him would often makeLight shine in darkness and dispel his fear;Oft led him to endure for Jesus' sakeLoss of beloved objects, and appearAn ever happy man, 'midst prospects dark and drear.
Besides the views I have already givenHe held it right that Christians all should useThe talents they possess as gifts from heaven.Neglect of this admits of no excuse,Though there are times when men their gifts abuse.As members of the Church all have their place,And none well taught of God should e'er refuseTo aid His cause according to the GraceReceived since they were led Salvation to embrace.
For peaceful rule and needful discipline,He held that churches should call two or moreOf members, who well qualified had been,As Elders, by God's Spirit to watch o'erThe flock of Christ; men skilled in Bible lore,And "apt to teach; not novices, but suchAs have seen service in the Truth, and boreGood characters becoming Christians much,"For only men like these should that high office touch.
Two or more Deacons they should also call,Who by the Scripture rule are qualifiedTo keep the Church's funds, and still help allWho may by poverty be sorely tried.By such arrangements Churches should abide,If they would faithful prove unto the Lord.We have no right to set His Laws aside;Such conduct is by our Great Head abhorred,And does with our profession very ill accord.
As this Church was but young it was deemed bestThat they should, as their pastor, him retain.He thanked them much for confidence expressed,And hoped it would not tend to make him vain.He thought it right his views thus to explain,And trusted they would give them due attention.Should his poor life be spared he would remainAnd labor hard to keep them from declension,Though of their falling off he had no apprehension.
The Salary question next came on the board.What should the amount be, how or whence obtained?The Church itself could not the means afford;Perhaps some others might assistance lend—But would the pastor such a course commend?Had they consulted him at first they wouldHave found they had no cause to apprehendA lack of means to serve intentions good;He wished to labor freely for Christ's brotherhood.
He and his family needed then no aidExcept what new-come Settlers might require.And obligation was upon him laidTo seek the good of souls from motives higherThan worldly gain. He trusted his desireWas that the Gospel might be free to all.What Christ had done for him his zeal would fire,And make him earnest in the sinner's call;Thus gladly would he forward press toward the goal.
Now let not Christians who from him may differSuppose this man could no forbearance show.It was his wish to be in nothing stifferThan Truth required, which God led him to know.From human creeds his conscience said "withdraw!"To stand by such advice he was content.To Pharisaic pride he was a foe,And to ungodliness where'er he went,While to promote true Love his gifts and time were spent.
My Muse again of temporal-things would sing,And I her mandate hasten to obey.Upon all farms there's work enough in Spring,And GOODWORTH'S people were not used to play.'Tis true their farm was small, yet day by dayThey plenty found to occupy their time;That patch of ground the labor would repay.As for good crops, 'twas in condition prime:Such they all hoped to raise in that fine fruitful clime.
Sixacres still lay right behind thetwo;Doubtless it had an Indian clearance been.This needs not much to fit it for the plow,So they of brush and rubbish rid it clean,And broke it up. Then a rail fence was seenMost speedily to compass it around.Soon spring wheat sown was looking brightly green,While in the garden useful plants were found,And these good prospects made the family's joys abound.
Their live stock was not large, yet they possessedTwo milking cows, and yoke of oxen strong,Some turkeys, hogs, and poultry of the best.These all were bought ere they had been there long.For finest fish they could not well go wrong;The lake supplied all that they wished to get.In small canoe they often sailed alongThe side of lovely isles and cast their net,Or fished with line till glorious Sol had nearly set.
Sometimes a deer would venture near enoughTo run the risk of catching lumps of lead,And this well dressed was no unsavory stuffWith which to help a meal of wheaten bread.Of bears and wolves they were at first in dread,But soon found out there was no cause for fear;For if such came and mortal showed his head,They soon ran off with a true coward's leer,Which made it seem surprising they should come so near.
To clear against the Fall, the sons marked outTen acres of the woods well filled with trees.Such work required strong arms and courage stout,And those young men could rightly boast of these.They now with willing hands their axes seizeAnd push the work from early morn till night.Loud sound the strokes, till each brave woodman seesThe trees begin to tremble in their sight,And soon with thundering sound upon the ground alight.
The chopper's life is not a life of ease—And yet to those who understand it wellThere's much about it that doth tend to pleaseTheir warm, strong minds, as they such monsters fell.I have oft stood as if bound by a spell,When some huge giant swayed awhile in air,And then with crash tremendous shook the dell,While cows from fright would scamper here and there,But soon return to browse its top for lack of fare.
While those in woods were busily employedSwinging their axes in true workman style,Their sisters neatly dressed as much enjoyedThe garden work, quite cheered by Nature's smile.Lightening their labor with sweet songs the while,They trained the different plants with skillful hands;A pleasing task well fitted to beguileSuch modest, gentle girls, who in Love's bandsWere bound together, thus obeying God's commands.
Their gardener skill was not alone confinedTo what was wanted for their bodily needs.By nature taught, each had a tasteful mind,And this was shown by planting flower seeds.These by some folks are looked upon as weeds,And therefore useless—not e'en worth a straw!From such coarse souls I do not look for deedsWhich, in sweet aspect, do our nature show;I envy not their taste nor all they chance to know.
I love to look on flowers. They to my soulSincerest pleasure and sweet peace still bring;Their varied charms can wondrously controlMy troubled spirit—smarting from the stingOf cold neglect and sad, crushed hopes, whence springMany sore trials to the sons of men.I, midst my flowers, can feel myself a king,Nor envy much the rich and mighty then,With all their pomp and pride, or gorgeous trappings vain.
And those fair damsels always loved to viewSweet tulips, pinks, and daisies' charms unfold,The peony's blush, the lovely rose's hue,And woodbine's blossoms—lilies like pure gold.All these, and more, were pleasant to behold,And well repaid them for their frequent toil.Their plants throve well in that rich, deep, black mold,And though the work did their nice fingers soil,It kept them ever free from this poor world's turmoil.
The settlers round beheld with much surpriseThe neat-kept garden in such beauty seen,And oft they looked with rather longing eyesUpon the flowers bedecked in glorious sheen.Sometimes a youth upon the fence would leanAnd Watch with due respect the sisters fair;Then anxious ask what this and that could mean,Or names of plants which seemed to him so rare.Doubtless it was to see the maidens he came there.
Of this I could not speak with certainty;But mutual blushes, looks significant,Are very apt to tell strange tales to me.I once was young, so you will therefore grantI should know something of what youths still wantWhen they to such sweet girls quite bashful come,And utter words as if their stock was scant.Well, 'tis but natural, and I would be mum;Of bliss thus sought and gained 'twere hard to tell the sum.
Often the parents, in their Master's spirit,Would link-armed take a pleasant walk at eveTo visit neighbors, and thus seek to meritThat just reward which faithful Saints receiveFrom Jesus Christ, who never will deceiveThose working well for him. They therefore wentGladly each burdened conscience to relieve,And those assist who were by sickness spent,Or tell to all, the message which their God had sent.
On one of these occasions they becameAcquainted with a youth to bed confined.From early childhood he was always lame,And for a year or two had been quite blind.His manners were most gentle, and his mindWith human knowledge seemed to be well stored.Now these dear people made enquiry kind,If he had in affliction sought the Lord,Or ever gained true comfort from his Sacred Word.
To them at first he no reply would give,Yet seemed absorbed in thought, and heaved a sigh.At last he said, "I always aimed to liveSo that I need not fear when brought to die.I feel at present that my end is nighAnd should not care ev'n now, if I were dead.Upon my blameless life I can rely,Nor look for harm to fall on guiltless head.A purer life than mine no mortal ever led."
"My dear young friend," the Pastor sweetly said,"Did your own conscience never whisper youThat hope like this to ruin always led?If not, let me now tell you it is true!For none may hope the face of God to viewIn peace unless their sins are washed awayBy Jesus' blood. Our dearest Savior flewOn wings of Mercy man's worst foes to slay,And open wide the gates, to everlasting day!"
He asked him then if he might read aloudA portion of God's Word, and offer prayer.The youth consented, feeling much less proudThan when these Christians first had entered there.GOODWORTH three chapters read with greatest care,Three which at length dwell on the sinner's state,And then by plainest speech made him awareHow he might best escape a sin-cursed fate,Be reconciled to God, and coming Glory wait.
[Footnote: The 3d, 4th, and 5th chapters of Romans]
The poor blind lad had never heard beforeThe wonders which those chapters do reveal,Self-righteousness he ne'er could think of more,For sense of guilt he now began to feel.This roused up fears he could not well conceal,And made him anxious those two friends should pray.The Pastor made to him one more appeal,Then supplicated God without delayThat Grace might be shed forth to lead him in the way.
Now bitter tears flow from those sightless orbs,As light breaks in upon his darker soul,Prospect of death his wretched thoughts absorbs,And makes him wish that he could back recall,Those early years which did so fleetly roll,Before he lost his health and precious sight;For no dread visions then did him appal,Nor was he wont to tremble from affright.Oh, that he had but sought Salvation with his might!
Our two friends told him plain 'twas not too late;Such burdened souls the Savior had invited,However black their crimes, however greatTheir mad rebellion; even if they had slightedThis Means of Grace—without which man is benighted—He bids them come to him and find sweet rest.Those who have thus obeyed have been delightedWith his light yoke, and often have expressedTheir sense of such great goodness, feeling truly blest.
This good instruction had the best effect,And as he seemed composed the friends prepareTo start for home, nor in the least suspectHow quick the time had fled whilst they were there.They bade "good night" and left him in the careOf their Kind Father, who had bid them go;And in their journey through the woods they shareSweet converse and true joy in constant flow,And reach their neat log house Content afresh to know.
The sons and daughters greeted their returnWith pleasant smiles, then with respect enquiredWhat led to their detention, and now burnTo know the cause they look so sad and tired.The parents, nothing both, gave as desiredA brief account how they had been employed;And this once more full confidence inspiredWhile each the truly pleasing thought enjoyed,That one soul less would be by Satan's power destroyed.
Around the family Altar next they meetTo worship God by reading, prayer and praise,Which all ascend like richest incense sweetBefore the throne of Him who guides their ways.Surely bright Angels might delight to gazeUpon this happy family at such time,And feel those Christians fit to join in laysThat they are wont to sing in heavenly clime;In rapturous devotion to their King sublime.
If e'er a glimpse of heaven is had below,If there is aught of Bliss upon this Earth,A family like this it best can show,For they need not the worldling's boisterous mirth;And yet of social feeling there's no dearth.Each does enjoy true peace and happiness,Which, rightly valued, in their turn give birthTo noble deeds designed mankind to bless,To strengthen what is right, and what is wrong redress.
I would not undervalue Church connection,For 'tis of God's appointment, and should showTrue Christian principles in much perfection,And be the sweetest bond of all below.But oh, it happens, I too truly know,There is mixed with it so much worldliness,So man members to vile Mammon bow,That my poor soul is filled with sore distress,And scarce dare hope the Lord will such connection bless.
Under these circumstances I with othersAwait most anxiously that day's appearing,When Jesus Christ will with his chosen brothersDwell in sweet fellowship and love endearing.The hope of this should always be most cheeringTo every Christian of each state and name;And make them patient hear with the rude jeeringOf those who love to glory in their shame;Who for their soul's perdition are alone to blame.
This hope was dear indeed to GOODWORTH'S heart,And made him feel a very strong desireRight Knowledge on all subjects to impart,And use but proper means true zeal to fire.He wished not that his hearers should admireHis humble teaching, but the truths he taught,And tried to show them how they could acquireThe power to judge all subjects which were broughtBefore their minds, as they with good or ill were fraught.
Under such teaching this small Church becameAn humble, cheerful, happy, loving Band.While they by industry their wild lands tame,They did not oft neglect to lend a handTo him who thus on Scripture took his stand.Their conduct and profession both agree,And every instance of God's goodness fannedLove's flame, and made it burn more steadily;For which they praised the Lord with great sincerity.
Amongst their number there was poor McKan,Weakly in body but yet firm in mind.His means were small when he at first beganTo clear as wild a bush farm as you'll find.The neighbors round had all to him been kind,Feeling much pity for his family;For he, though toiling hard, had run behindIn payment for his lot and soon might beWith those dependant on him brought to misery.
While certain ruin stared him in the face,He felt he'd rather die than beg from friends;And so prepared to sacrifice his place—Persuaded that the Lord would make amends.The Pastor hears his case and straight attendsUpon him at his house with wish to knowThe full particulars, and gladly lendsAn ear attentive to his tale of woe;How the stern creditor would no more mercy show.
His case was not a solitary one.Too many find when they have toiled for years,That sweet Hope leaves them when their strength is gone;Which fills their future with alarming fears,And nothing for them but despair appears!O, why is this? Have they imprudent been?Or has great sickness sunk them in arrears?Perhaps it may be these; and yet I weenAnother cause of trouble may be clearly seen.
That cause is this: Our Government thought fitTo sell their land at far too high a rate,And those who bought thought they could pay for itWithin the time, which would be something great.If common-sense had chanced to bid them wait,They mostly had an answer close at hand:"Men whom they knew had bettered much their stateBy buying on long time that wild bush land,Ami now as able farmers 'mongst their fellows stand."
By pinching work they raise the first installmentFor lot on which the claim pre-emption right,And from that time they find complete enthralment,As with Adversity they constant fight.Where's now the prospect which was once so bright?"Not quite all gone," may some poor settler say.But health is broken, and no more delightFills their parental hearts from day to day,While each succeeding month adds something more to pay,
Until at last the time allowed has fled.More time is granted, but alas, in vain!With aches and pains they now are nearly dead.Such help as they require they can't obtain;And yet perhaps of fortune they complain,Or blame the friends whose "luck" led them out there.But from such course 'tis better to refrain;For, had they been stillservants, with due careThey might have bought good farms and had some cash to spare.
Just so it was with that poor Christian brother,And this at once the Pastor clearly saw;Yet had no wish in haste to judge another,But felt inclined pure Charity to show.Then, having learned all he now wished to know,Home he returned and sought his Father's ear.From his full heart strong supplications flow,Which cease not till he sees his duty clear,And gains fresh help from God his brethren's hearts to cheer.
He next the matter told to his dear wife,For she was wise and often could suggestWhat was most useful in affairs of life,Which made her counsel be in much request.Her mind to him she freely then expressed,And mentioned what she heard the day before—How brother Luth, who was of friends the best,Would take the farm and willingly give moreThan would the Creditor, if they the land restore.
GOODWORTH heard this, then spoke to Luth alone—Told him quite plainly how the matter stood,Yet not in harsh, authoritative tone,But meekly, as more likely to do good.By this he showed regard for brotherhood,And led Luth candidly to speak his mind.Then, as both felt in very kindly mood,They deemed it best to try McKan to findAnd let him know what they in Christian love designed.
They found him soon and Luth made his proposal,Which filled the humble family with delight.The whole affair appeared as the disposalOf their kind God, who always acted right.Most thankful were they that in His pure sightThey found such favor in their hour of need.That brother's kindness they could ne'er requite;His was a noble—a most generous deed,Which could alone from love at any time proceed.
Luth took the place, and for improvements paidBeside what to the Creditor was due;"And if the family chose, they might," he said,"Remain his tenants for a year or two,And daily labor he would take in lieuOf money payments for a moderate rent."This plan aroused their gratitude anew,While with the bargain all appeared content,And deemed the time employed most profitably spent.
The two on their return called in to seeThe sick blind youth, who now was sinking fast.He was no longer in despondency,Though he of late had through great suffering passed.On the Atonement all his hopes were cast,And now enjoyed a happy frame of mind.The work of Jesus did appear so vast,He could not doubt but it had been designedBy Him whose name is Love, to save poor lost mankind.
The parents had beheld the change thus wroughtBy Gospel Truth in their afflicted boy,And called to mind how often they had thoughtReligion was invented to destroyWhatever mortals have of peace and joy."But now," they said, "we think it something worth.For our son's happiness has no alloy,Although about to leave the joys of Earth,And all those pleasant things which used to yield him mirth."
The Pastor now gave each an exhortation,And kind friend Luth engaged awhile in prayer,Which met, at present, no disapprobation.Much death bed comfort does the sick one share,But soon his eyes assume a brighter glare,The rattle in his throat bespeaks death near.Anon they raise the dying youth with care,Whose smiling face shows plain he has no fear,For Jesus in the valley does his servant cheer.
A strong, brief struggle, and now all is o'er!No more the heart will in his bosom beat.His soul triumphant gains Heaven's peaceful shore,And raptured stands to view each scene so sweet;Then joins the thousands tasting Bliss complete,In all the Hallelujahs which they raiseUnto the Lamb of God, while at His feetThey cast their crowns and ever wondering gazeOn Him who sits enthroned as worthy of all praise.
Our friends strove now to cheer the drooping heartsOf that lone couple in their deep distress;For they knew well each promise which impartsTo mourners hope and heartfelt happiness.These on their minds they forcibly impress;And their kind efforts are not used in vain,For the bereaved ones readily confessThat faith in Jesus brought substantial gainTo their dear boy who now is free from grief and pain.
The neighbors, apprehending such event,Drop silent in and heartily engageWith solemn mien and truly kind intent,The old folks' ardent sorrow to assuage.Some one prepares the needful shroud to wage,While others wash and lay the body out,And in soft tones make observations sage,The truth of which none are inclined to doubt,For all at such a time seem serious and devout.
Meanwhile the Pastor and his friend take leave,And reach their homes before 'tis very late.The news they take their families receiveAs fresh inducement on their God to wait,And ever watch by Wisdom's sacred gate.Two days elapse and bring the Sabbath round,And settlers join the humble funeral state,Which reaches soon the new-made burial ground,Where all list to the service with respect profound.
Those simple, mournful rites do much impressThe minds of all assembling on this day;And now the Preacher lays the greatest stressOn danger consequent upon delayIn matters of Salvation, when the WayTo Everlasting Life, himself stands readyTo welcome those who make His blood then stay,However weak their faith, howe'er unsteadyTheir trembling souls become when tossed in Life's rough eddy.
The text [Footnote: The three last verses of Matthew XI.] was onethat wonderfully statedThe sinner groaning under loads of guilt,And mourning souls have found weak faith recreated,As on its consolations they have builtTheir stable hopes, against which Hell full tiltHas often run, determined to prevail—And might have done if Jesus, who has spiltHis precious blood for them, had chanced to fail.But thatcan never be, whatever foes assail.
Has any mortal skill to estimateThe solid good that such a text has done?Ah, no! the task's so wonderfully great,By finite man it need not be begun.Fit for the work, of Angels there is none.God can alone the glorious secret tell,Or mark the value of the mighty boonTo all the souls whom it hath saved from hell,And landed safe in Glory, ever there to dwell?
And at this time the mourners dried their tears,As the Departed's state they realize.Raised were their hopes, abated were their fears,On each new view of Christ's great Sacrifice.Now might be seen joy beaming in their eyes,As they learned acquiescence in God's will.Most precious promises the word supplies,To cheer their hearts and every murmur still,While they together walk adown Life's slippery hill.
Others, who long had boon companions beenOf that young man in his most joyous days,With tearful eyes are in that Chapel seen,And seem desirous to amend their ways.They never had before beheld Truth's blaze,But, like too many, boasted of their state,Not dreaming that their light was lost in hazeOf stupid ignorance and folly great;God grant such may repent before it is too late.
'Tis thus the Lord oft makes most lasting goodTo flow from what we mortals view as ill;And we pass through each strange vicissitudeTo find that peace again our souls can fill;While Mercy's shed, not like a trickling rill,But in full streams, with never ceasing flow—Softening our hearts obdurate, and our willConforming unto God's; until we knowIt was all needful to keep us from sin and woe.
We now will pass from sad to lively scenes,And bask awhile in July's warmth and smiles;For settlers,' homes can furnish ample meansTo have aPicnic'mongst the beauteous islesBestudding Huron's face for many miles.Why should not those, who live on such wild farms,Enjoy a pleasant pastime, which beguilesThe jaded mind: affording many charmsTo those who wish to flee from anti-social harms?
The subject some weeks previous had been broached,And this enabled farmers to have careLest the event on needful work encroached—A thing of which they all should be aware;As they, through Summer, have scarce time to spareFor needful recreation in this way.Now, by contrivance, they enjoy a shareOf sweet delight, on this auspicious day:When several families make for a most pleasant Bay.
Fine was the day, and settlers' boats were readyTo bear their precious cargoes from the shore.The Pastor's presence kept the young folks steady,Though blandest smiles the happy party wore.Strong, manly arms plied well each sturdy oar,To make the boats fly swift o'er sparkling waves.These seemed quite conscious of the freight they bore,And kissed the water which their trim forms laved;While all enjoyed a scene that ne'er the heart depraved.
And thus they reach a lovely Isle, tree-clad—At no great distance from their starting place—From whose high front most splendid views are hadOf other isles, all clothed in Summer's grace.With rapture they now gaze on Nature's face;See trees bedecked in brightest green attire,Which look well pleased with July's warm embrace—Their forms view in the Lake, and much admireTheir fine proportions; and more stateliness acquire.
For camping-ground they had not long to look;A sheltered place, from underbrush quite free,Was known to all as a most charming nook,Where they might rest and eat in privacy.On choice of this they every one agree;Then place the baskets-laden with good things—And now their voices, in sweet melody,Present pure praises to the King of Kings:A truly pleasant service that much blessing brings.
Young GOODWORTH'S then good poetry recited;"Hymn to Mont Blanc," and GRAVES' sweet "Elegy;"While MILTON'S lofty strains each one delighted,And COWPER'S sketches-full of harmony.CAMPBELL and WORDSWORTH yield variety,And BURNS his quota furnished with the rest.WILSON'S good Dramas, too, were deemed to be,By all the company, among the best:And I would find no fault with what was then expressed.
For lengthening out the pleasure thus obtained,The Pastor undertook to criticiseThose pieces heard, and what was dark explained.Next, needful illustration he supplies,Or shows defects not seen by common eyes.Comparing the best with sacred poetry,He unfolds beauties in the PropheciesOf great Isaiah, and quite readilyPaints in most glowing terms the Psalmist's minstrelsy!
Then speaks of Jeremiah's plaintive strain—The "Weeping Prophet" and true Patriot,Who often wept for Zion, and felt painFor her great sins; who, when God's wrath waxed hotAgainst his country, ne'er her weal forgot,But prayed and wrestled with the Lord of Hosts,If, peradventure, he her crimes would blotFrom out his Book; and yet he never boastsOf love to country, as some do who seek high posts.
The book of Job—great in poetic lore—He dwells upon, till wonder and delightSeize all his hearers; most of whom beforeHad not enjoyed a very clear insightInto that Book, which tells of God's great might,His wisdom, goodness and forbearance longWith his poor servant, brought to saddest plightThrough Satan's eagerness to drive him wrong;When he poured forth his woes in deep impassioned song.
Next glanced at Moses' song on Red Sea shore—When Pharaoh and his mighty host were drowned—In which the Tribes most gratefully adoreTheir great Deliverer, who on Egypt frowned.No mortal uninspired could e'er have foundSuch fitting language for that great event,Those strains sublime, with glorious grandeur crowned,Came forth from heaven, and back were thither sentAs worship to the Lord, from hearts, on praise intent.
'Twas now full time that they should all partakeOf the refreshment thither brought with care.While thirst was quenched with water from the lake,They each with each their choicest viands share.But ere they eat of that most ample fate,Due thanks are given in a proper song.Such happy lot with any can compare,So none need marvel if they tarried long,For everything conspired to make Love's bonds quite strong.
The dinner o'er the older ones retiredTo give the Island a complete survey.In doing this they very much admiredSweet scenes thus visited on that fine day.The younger part had no desire to stray,So they remained in that nice shady nook,And joined together in a harmless play,Or read awhile in some delightful book,And thus of purest pleasure old and young partook.
The sun, quite fast into the West descending,Now warned them all it was full time to goTo their dear homes, where sweetest comforts blending,Gave no just cause neglect of them to show.But yet their hearts, with gratitude aglow,Prompt them once more to join in praise each voiceAnd now the Pastor sought from them to knowIf they of proper hymn have made their choice,As he had one composed, and truly would rejoice
If his attempt to speak the mind of allFor this day's pleasure and substantial joyShould meet, with approbation and recallThe hours so sweetly spent without alloy.He spoke of this to them with manners coy,Like one not used to boast what he had done."Perhaps," he said, "They might their time employTo more advantage if he ne'er begunTo give to them the Song which he in haste had spun."
Soon Sol will sink into the WestAnd Luna shed her silvery beams;Each songster seeks its wild-wood nestTo spend the night in love's sweet dreams.
And we, dear friends, prepare to leaveThis Isle and each delightful scene,And feel we have no cause to grieveThat we upon its shores have been.
For all, throughout this lovely day,Have had much pleasure free from pain.Then let us, ere we go away,Lift up our hearts in praise again.
"O Thou who from thy bounteous handDost give thy children all they need,Behold us now—a loving band,And all our boats in safety speed
"To yonder bay; then guide us home.Accept our thanks for mercies greatWe have enjoyed beneath thy dome,In humble, yet contented state."
Farewell, sweet Isle; may thy fair scenesNe'er witness orgies, vile, profane;For this man's character demeans,And never yields him solid gain.
With this short song they all were satisfied,And soon agreed that it forthwith be sung.In strong, warm feelyngs then each singer vied,And some gave proof they had no lack of lung.To Duke Street tune were their fine voices strung,And thus verses went off charmingly,While through the distant woods their loud notes rung.The party now, with great alacrityRegain the boats, and push into that deep, blue sea.
And what a beauteous scene was there presentedTo their admiring gaze on that fine lake.'Twas such that they could all have been contentedTo stay forever; but a something spakeAnd bid them hasten, as life was at stake!This may seem, strange, but they with dread beholdHeaven's face grow black, while mighty winds awake.And now 'tis well that men both strong and boldHave charge of those frail boats well filled with young and old.
In this their trouble they look up to God,Who bids the angry elements be still;And thus suspends o'er them his chastening Rod,While deepest gratitude their bosoms fill,Inspiring them afresh to do His will.It nerves each heart and arm to ply the oarWith ceaseless efforts; working hard untilIn safety every boat has reached the shore.When the curbed storm at last does all its vengeance pour.
The rain comes down in torrents, and the flashOf vivid lightning penetrates the gloom!Loud roars the mighty thunder, and the dashOf angry waves upon the ear doth boom!The friends, escaped as from a watery tomb,All stand together 'neath o'erhanging rock.Somewhat appalled and rather pinched for room,They list in silence each tremendous shock;Yet Christ, their Shepherd, watches o'er his feeble flock.
The storm subsides, and they not much the worse,Cheered by the bright moon beams haste on their way.God's special mercies warmly they rehearse,Which yields fresh comfort, as so well it may.Upon the whole they had a pleasant day,And ere each separate party leaves the track,The Pastor says, "Dear friends, now let us pray."All gave consent, and forth there rose no lackOf earnest prayer to Him who safely brought them back.
Now while they separate and thence pursueThe several paths that lead them to their farms,I seize occasion to bid warm adieuTo my poor Muse, who lent to me her charmsIn my adventurous flight; and free from harmsWill live in hope the subject to resumeAs leisure serves me and the topic warmsMy height and fancy, which may truth illume,That what I have to sing may live beyond the tomb.
I seek divine simplicity in himWho handles things divine, and all besides,Through learned with labor, and though much admiredBy curious eyes and judgments ill informedTo me is odiousSuch should still be affectionate in lookAnd tender in address, as well becomesA messenger of Grace to guilty man
Cowper
How strange the various scenes through which we passIn our life's journey—onward to the grave!Sometimes all smiles and sunshine; then alas,Dark clouds hang o'er us, and God's help we crave.Weak in adversity—when prosperous brave,We often act a very foolish part;Forsaking Mercies which our Father gave.To follow our devices, till we smartWith self-inflicted pangs sent through our inmost heart.
So I, who many times have sung; of duty,Too oft am led to slight my own, and feelGod's chastening hand, until I see the beautyOf all His dealings with me for my weal.And yet the hand that wounds is sureThe injured part; designing all in love;And in such manner that He can't concealThe Father's kindly heart. 'Tis thus we proveHis earnest wish to have us always look Above.
Some months have fled since I this task began,Bringing to neat completion its first part.Awhile my thoughts in easy measure ran,Which much beguiled an often saddened heart.And made me lay my pleasing task aside.Now, as I write not for an earthly mart,I have a wish that my poor rhymes may bideThe test of Scripture Truth by whomsoe'er applied.
I feel a sacred pleasure warm my breastAs I resume my simple tale of love:A tale which is not in rich language dressed,I fain would look for help from God above,To leave a record of my principles;And seek the guidance of the Heavenly Dove,Whose influence the darkest doubt dispels,And fills with purest peace the heart wherein he dwells.
This glorious truth was never more displayedThan in dear GOODWORTH'S every day's employ;Or in the fields or in the woodland shade,His love of duty yielded constant joy;Sweet Heaven-born Peace naught could in him destroy.For why? He had in God most steadfast trust,And things which do so many minds annoyLed him to curb all anger, pride and lust,While in each fresh distress he knew that God was just.
He also knew that he is mercifulAnd wish in all he does unto mankind.If this we see not we are very dull,And to our soul's best interests truly blind.This to perceive some minds are too refinedBy false philosophy and learning vain.No wonder then if they are left behindThe humble child of God who with disdainViews all these worldly pleasures that he might obtain.
Just so with GOODWORTH; though he had in schoolsLearned much of what is termed deep classic lore,He quite preferred to train his life by rulesContained in Scripture; and it grieved him soreTo see some Christians—this all should deplore—Neglect Christ's precepts to procure their ends.But seeing this, he never once forboreTo speak plain truth and reap what oft attendsAn upright course—ev'n scorn; but this his walk commends.
In his snug home he evermore obtainedWhat flowed from love—a holy reverence.Of harsh commands his children ne'er complained;Wrangling and discord both were banished thence.His much loved wife possessed some rare good sense,And seconded his efforts for their good.She never sought in earnest or pretenceTo lower him before his flesh and blood;While to increase their comforts she did all she could.
Nor was it strange if such a home as thisMade him content his leisure time to spendWithin his family circle; for such blissComes not to all, who seek to make an endOf troubles that a single life attend,By entering soon into the marriage state.If such folks would but strict attention lendTo Bible teaching, they might share the fateOf these, our friends, on whom true pleasure seemed to wait.
Their constant mutual love became the themeWith all who knew them in that Settlement;Domestic bliss was proved no idle dream,For in true happiness their lives were spent.To labor hard they always were content,Regarding Paul's advice and his example:It was their thought they were but thither sentTo furnish proof which all might own was ampleThat they loved Jesus' laws, on which too many trample.
Let none imagine they e'er built on thisA hope of endless happiness in heaven.They deemed it right all men should bow submissTo His Authority, whose life was givenFor sinners vile; that they might not be drivenAway from Him to dwell in endless woe.This oft has cheered them on as they have strivenTo lead their fellow men God's truth to know;And every day its power did their behavior show.
The Spring is past and Summer's heat has fled.United diligence hath well suppliedA plenteous store of more than needful bread,For they have some choice luxuries beside,By which means different tastes were gratified.The snug ten acre field with wheat is sown,And looks most promising. Should naught betideTo hurt their present prospects this aloneWill well repay them for the hardships they have known.
And now the necessary steps are takenTo shield the cattle from dread Winter's rage.Necessity—stern master—does awakenTheir full inventive powers, and they engageWith ready ardor pens and sheds to wage;And in the absence of commodious barn,They stack with care their straw, and thus are sageCompared with many whom no dangers warn,And who, though often suffering, will not stoop to learn.
A good supply of hard wood they obtain,To serve them through the season drawing near,When rude King Frost will hold tyrranic reign,Making the country desolate and drear.But in those woods they have small cause for fearFrom Winter's howling, fearful, bitter blasts,For they have fuel in abundance near,And the huge wood file constant comfort castsInto the snug log house long as the season lasts.
All these arrangements made, the Pastor feltHe had more leisure now to walk abroad;And in the gorgeous woods he often kneltIn fervent prayer before his Father, God.For miles around his feet have pressed the sodWhich ne'er was turned by plow up to the sun—Wilds that the foot of white man seldom trod,And where no clearance had as yet begun:Where he could sit and watch some charming brooklet run.
Or now and then would wander near the sideOf that majestic Lake, whose isles, tree cladAnd decked in Autumn's tints, appeared to rideWith all their splendors quite elate and gladOn Huron's silvery surface. Such scenes hadA powerful charm to one of GOODWORTH'S mind.They would indeed, if aught had made him sad,Often dispel his gloom and leave behindPrecious remembrances of an enduring kind.
This was no marvel for his soul was filledWith true poetic fire; and oft sweet songOf purest praise spontaneously has welledFrom his enraptured heart. Then he would longTo leave a world where misery and wrongSo much prevail, but yet content to stayAnd sere his master, his poor saints among;Would try to save those led from God astray,That he might aid Christ's cause while it is called "To-day."
Amidst such scenery he would sometimes takeIn haste his pencil, that he might note downSuch thought as gushing from their fountain makeThe truest poetry that man has known.A specimen or two will now be shownEre I proceed with my unlettered tale.If I mistake not they have all been drawnFrom Nature's store, and if so should not failTo claim our deep respect while they our minds regale.
Sweet Nature in grandeur Autumnal lies still,And I stand all entranced mid the gorgeous display,While the sun brightly sets o'er yon westermost hill,And soft twilight succeeds to a most balmy day.
It is sweet in our woods a free ranger to wander,And view the bright tints the frost makes on the leaves;To watch day by day, as the colors grow grander,And its garb evanescent each tall tree receives.
'Tis here that I feel my breast heave with emotion,While reflections arise in its deepest recess;And these in their turn fill my soul with devotion,As I trace the Kind Hand for my aid in distress.
These all are thy works, O, Thou glorious Being!Thou art the great Limner with whom none can vie;Yet dim are the splendors as night comes, fast fleeing,Compared with the glories around Thee on high.
Amidst this array comes the solemn thought stealing,That these glowing colors will soon pass away.Each rude blast of wind seems a passing bell pealing,And loudly is calling all Christians to pray.
For full preparation, ere Death comes to call themTo lay all earth's cares and sweet pleasures aside;That they may be happy whatever befall them,Still trusting in Jesus, the Lamb who hath died.
Swiftly flowing, gentle Rill,Murm'ring softly down this hill,Oft I list thy charming voice,At the bright and early morn,As the Sun comes from the East,While his beams these scenes adorn,To furnish minds like mine a feast.
Sweetly musical, pure Rill,Thou dost me with pleasure fill.As I note thy varied charmsDulcet sounds fall on my ear,Soothing much a saddened heart;Easing me of grief and fear,Till I grieve from thee to part.
Modest, unassuming Rill,Thou art formed by matchless skill.Grace and beauty are displayedIn thy ever-smiling faceAnd the objects which surroundThis thy home; where I can traceTraits to make this hallowed ground.
Lively, joyous, trickling Rill!As I gaze upon thee still,Wanders back my mind afarTo those haunts of boyish days,When my young and ardent soulWarbled forth its earnest lays,Gladly following Nature's call.
Glittering, dancing, pearly Rill!Thou dost well thy Maker's willIn regarding his behest.Teaching Christians all the wayThey must take to please their God;Lest in dangerous paths they stray,And bring upon themselves his Rod.
Swiftly flowing, gentle Rill,Murm'ring softly down this hill,I must bid thee now farewell;Other scenes my presence claim.My dear Master's work demandsWhat will bring no earthly fame—The labor of my heart and hands.
Upon these songs no farther I comment;They speak a language dear unto my soul;And I could dwell through all my life contentTo gaze on Nature, who doth never pallA mind well tuned to listen to the callOf her pure minstrelsy, which yields delightUnmixed, enduring, as the seasons rollIn quick succession, hymning forth the MightOf their All-wise Creator, who doth all things right.
'Tis "Indian Summer," and the sun looks downAs if afraid to show his blazing face.And now the woods assume a darker brown,While in the weather there is not a traceOf Summer's ardent heat that doth unbraceThe nerves of most, and makes one long to feelThe cooling breeze as Winter comes apaceTo scatter forest leaves with savage zeal,Which do the narrow wood-paths by their fall conceal.
And now the copious rains come pouring down,Filling the creeks and swamps and rivers full;Or in the woods or in the growing town,Things wear an aspect truly dark and dull.Through deep, stiff mud the stoutest oxen pullWith much ado the very smallest load;While many a blow across his patient skullUrges the meek ox slowly on the road,Tiring the settler out ere he reach his abode.
Anon the angry northwest winds arise,Bringing dark scowling clouds full fraught with snow.This all discharged, perhaps for months there liesOne vast white sheet which screens the plants belowFrom biting frosts, while easier to and froThe settlers move in their convenient sleighs.These heed not cold if they have hearts aglowWith friendly feelings, but will speed for daysAlong the snow-paved roads and on some strange highways.
At such a time Goodworth and eldest sonLeft home and all its inmates in God's care;But ere they had their first day's journey doneA circumstance occurred by no means rare.An English emigrant had settled whereThe woods were heavy and no neighbors near.He had partaken of the morning's fareAnd armed with axe dreamt not of cause for fear—Thought he'd be back at noon to wife and children dear.
But noontide came and brought no father fondTo take his place and share the frugal meal.They little knew that his loved form beyondIn that dark wood could no emotion feel.The loving wife could very ill concealDread thoughts which rose within her faithful breast.Should he be dead her own and children's wealWere fled forever. So, with mind distressedShe went to search the woods and gave herself no rest.
At last she came to where a huge tree layAthwart the body of the hapless man.By grief distracted there she could not stay,But up the road with frightful speed she ran.Soon she met Goodworths and forthwith beganTo tell her tale most incoherently.Few words were needful at such a time to fanLove's flame in them or make them prove to beBoth Good Samaritans to that poor family.
They took her up and tried to calm her mindUntil they came to that soul-harrowing scene.Now all alight; ere long the axe they find,Which had so late the man's companion been.His stiffened corpse was wedged quite fast betweenThe tree and frozen earth, and naught remainedBut first the widow with sleigh-robes to screenFrom bitter cold; and this point having gainedThey soon cut through the tree, so well had they been trained.
It then became their melancholy dutyTo take the lifeless form from the sad spot.And now the widow in sweet, mournful beautyDirects the new-found friends to her log cot.A tearless eye within that home was not—All felt the dreadful nature of the lossWhich had that day occurred, for naught could blotHis great worth from their minds. He ne'er was crossTo those who clung to him as to the tree the moss.
To leave this family in such piteous stateWas out of question, so young GOODWORTH tookThe horses out—for now 'twas growing late—To quench their thirst at a clear purling brook,And gave them food within a sheltered nook;Then found some boards and made a coffin rude.Meanwhile the father took God's holy BookAnd read such portions as teach fortitudeTo us, that all immoderate grief may be subdued.
'Twas well that mother long had known the Lord,For wondrous strength is now to her imparted;And each clear promise in the Holy WordProved balm unto her soul, though much she smarted.In both the GOODWORTHS she found friends warm hearted,Friends who could give their love and sympathy;And ere they from her humble home departedThey showed such proofs of generosityAs did with their profession very well agree.
For such a work by sad experience trained,They soon proceeded to lay out the dead;And though fatigued they ne'er of it complained.Nor would they let the widow spread a bedFor their joint use, but sat and watched instead.She, much refreshed by prayer and conversationRetired to rest her weaned heart and head.Theyspent the night in solemn contemplationOr read that precious Book which does unfold Salvation.
When morning came their plans were well matured,And each went off to tell the mournful news.Ere noon appeared assistance they secured,For help at such time who can well refuse?Some brought their tools which they knew how to use,And dug a grave in the selected spot.There round it grew no stately, somber yews,But these and other things it needed notTo be fit resting-place for one not soon forgot.
When all was ready GOODWORTH lent supportTo the bereaved one following the bier.In sweet-toned language he did her exhortTo look to Him who "bottles up each tear"His children shed while in deep sorrow here.They reached the grave, where she with firmness stoodAnd felt such comfort as dispelled her fear.Such fruits spring from true Christian BrotherhoodTo all who rest their hopes on Christ's atoning blood.
Due rites performed, the settlers flock aroundThe widowed mother and warm offers makeOf humble service, with respect profound.Thiswished the boy andthatthe girl to take,And treat them well for their dear parents' sake.She heard these offers with much thankfulness,But said to part with them her heart would break—Would miss them, too, in this her sad distress,And they could get along if God their efforts bless.
That night the Pastor ventured to enquireWhat were her prospects? Did she money need?The answer made he could not but admire:"Her God had ever proved a friend indeed;Cheered by His promises which she could plead,She doubted not He would them still protect,And, make their labors on the farm succeed;Her boy was strong, and had such great respectFor what was right that he his work would not neglect."
Next day the friends prepared again to startOn their cold journey soon as it was light.Both urged their hostess freely to impartTo them from time to time her prospects brightOr the reverse, as she might deem it right.In fervent prayer they her to God commend,Then bade Farewell and soon were out of sightThey reached that day their lengthy journey's end,And gained a hearty welcome from their loving friend.
That friend lived in a village destined soonTo show few traces of the times gone pastWhen its fair site was woods where the racoon,The bear, and wolf had munched their stolen repast.In wealth and people 'twas increasing fast,But not in morals—these were very low;Yet some there lived who roused themselves at lastAnd with great vigor met the monster foe—Ev'n vile Intemperance—to give him his death blow.