The Dying Indian's Dream: A Poem

Psalmus XXIII. He ceased—his word, no longer heard, Through every chord, our souls had stirred. The glistening eye, gave back reply, Then rose on high, the heart-felt cry: Lord, grant that I, when called to die, May thus be blessed, from pain released, As Heavenly Guest, with Thee to feast: Oh! be Thou near, my soul to cheer, That doubt and fear, may disappear, That joy and rest, may fill my breast, That visions bright, of heavenly light, Like his to-night, may cheer my sight. Should quiet sleep my senses keep, And Fancy leap the pathless steep, Where whirl the streams of airy dreams, With glittering gleams, of heavenly beams,— Oh! may I in fit frame be found, To dream of “Angels hovering round,” And “leave the world without a tear, Save for the friends I hold so dear.” Or should fierce pains forbid to sleep, May I amid the anguish deep, When shuddering death-chills o’er me creep, And friends around me mourn and weep, Be buoyed above the waves’ wild sweep, Where bursting billows roar and leap; And hear the ‘whispering angels’ say, “Sister Spirit, come away;” And borne on Faith and Fancy’s wing, Still hear them as they shout, and sing, “My ears with sounds seraphic ring,” My soul through all its mystic springs, Thrill like a Harp’s harmonious strings, Defiance at the foe to fling; That I may shout, exult, and cry: “Lend, lend, your wings! I mount, I fly!” “Oh! Death, where is thy victory! Oh! Death, where is thy sting!” My faith has triumphed over thee, A conquered captive , not a king : “Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are; Here on His breast I lean my head, And breathe my life out sweetly there.” IX. We watch the dying man meanwhile, His face all radiant with a smile; His lips still move, as if in prayer, A prayer we may not fully share; But One is near, whose gracious ear, The deep unuttered groan can hear. Nor need we doubt or judge amiss, What the heart’s inmost yearning is. The quivering lip, the tearful eye, Can well attest the earnest cry, Of the stirred soul’s deep agony; And taught of God, we join the prayer, We may not fully hear or share. Our eyes and hearts to Heaven we raise, While thus the dying Indian prays:— “God of eternal Love, Look from Thy throne above, Bow down thy gracious ear, My dying prayer to hear; Fulfil Thy promises, Thy promises to bless The widow and the fatherless. Grant this last boon I crave! May they have bread when I am dead, And by thy bounty still be fed, When I am in my grave. Better than earthly father’s care, Oh! may they in thy goodness share! Grant them all needed good; For soul and body, food; And may thy mighty arm, Protect them from all harm. I leave them at thy call, Mother and children all: Oh! let no fears appal! And let them never fail or fall! I trust them, Lord, to Thee, Thou wilt their Father be, For time and for eternity. Thy promises are sure, The needy, helpless, poor, Though crushed to death and dust, May in Thy goodness trust, And rest upon thy Word, Thou ever blessed Lord!” “Oh! bless my people! bless Them in their helplessness! Their poverty and wretchedness, Their misery and distress. Bless the whole Indian race! That they may know thy grace! Do thou their hearts prepare, That they may freely share, Those blessings rich and rare, That from the Gospel flow,— Salvation here below, At all times trusting Thee, and go To that bright World on high, Of Glory when they die; That they may shine, In Love divine, And with Thee rest Forever blest!” X. Now droops his weary head Exhausted on his bed. His dying prayer has ceased; Convulsive heaves his breast; We deem him sunk to rest, Breathing his last and best ; When suddenly his eyes He opens on the skies, And startling us with surprise, He waves his hand and cries: “I see, I see the place! I see my Saviour’s face! Look, children, look! your eyes Raise, and look toward the skies! Bright beams of Glory Come hovering o’er me! See! see! they’re opening wide, The flaming gates of Paradise! Bright angels downward glide, And standing near my side, They smile and bid me come, To my eternal home.” XI. He dies, the happy Indian dies, Closes his eyes to earth, and flies Up to the regions of the skies. Angelic legions lead the way, To the portals of celestial day. Wide spreads the news, all Heaven rings, Angels and ransomed spirits wave their wings, All lowly bending to the King of kings; Mingling their loftiest harmonies, Their sweetest, softest melodies, High Heaven’s eternal Minstrelsies, With harp and voice and choral symphonies, Loud as the sounding of ten thousand seas! They shout him welcome to his heavenly Home: “ John Paul has come! John Paul has come!” Bear the glad tidings far As the remotest star! Let every tongue, The shout prolong! Sound the Redeemer’s praise, In loudest, loftiest lays! Your noblest anthems raise To everlasting days, To Him who bought him With His precious blood, To Him who brought him To this bright Abode Of perfect blessedness, And Everlasting Peace, “The Bosom of his Father and his God!” XII. Oh! Bliss Immortal! hail! all hail! All glory, honour, to the Lamb who died! Now seated glorious at His Father’s side. Sound through the Universe his Name! His matchless Love his Fame proclaim! Till all His foes are put to shame. And let the Story of the Cross prevail O’er every Mountain, Island, Hill, and Dale, Of the wide world, and satan’s power destroy,— The wondrous news thrill every heart with joy— Wafted on every breeze, by every swelling gale, Till sin and suffering, shame and sorrow fail; ’Gainst Love Omnipotent no force prevail; Till all His foes subdued shall bow the knee, To Him who died on Calvary’s bloody tree, For lost and guilty men, of every race, Of every nation, station, time and place. Oh swell the joyful notes of Jubilee! The year of Grace! the year of Liberty! Burst! burst! ye prison bars! let Man be free! He died for all, of every tribe and hue, Anglican, Indian, Ethiop, Greek and Jew. All, all are welcome! wide heaven’s gates expand; There every name is known from every Land, There burst Hosannas, Heaven’s loud acclaim, O’er every new-arrived, his name they name. While all the blood-washed Throng, In accents loud and long, Their rapturous joy proclaim, Shouting and singing, Glory to the Lamb! All praise to Him who sits upon the Throne, Who rules the Universe, the Lord alone! Jehovah, Jesus, Saviour, Great I AM! To Him who bought us With His precious blood; To Him who brought us To this Bright Abode, Of perfect Blessedness, And Everlasting Peace, “The Bosom of Our Father and our God!” Latin Translations. [The following attempts at a translation of a couple of Psalms, and some of our beautiful Evangelical Hymns into Latin, will interest those who are acquainted with that noble old Tongue; more especially if they are at all conversant with the Latin Hymnology and methods of versification of what are designated the Middle Ages .] Psalmus XXIII. 1. Est Jehova Pastor meus, Meus Dominus et Deus,— Ego impotens et reus— Ergo non carebo. Suam ovem stabulatque, Prata graminosa datque. Rivis placidis lavatque, Illuc ducit, propinatque; Itaque valebo. 2. Animamque reportavit Meam, saepe recreavit; Me quaesivit et servavit, Optimus Curator. Vüs rectis, praeparatis, Aequitati consecratis, Ducit Deus bonitatis, Propter suum nomen gratis, Ductor et Salvator. 3. Transeam caliginosa Loca, et calamitosa, Dura, dira, luctuosa, Hostes et obstantes; Non formido aerumnosa Mala, tetra, dolorosa; Gaudens fero lacrimosa, Inter Te amantes. Confidenter ibo Tecum; Nam Tu semper eris mecum; Tua virga, tuum pedum, Ample consolantes. 4. Mensam mihi preparasque, Coram hostes, panem dasque; In clementiâ prope stasque: Mea pax abundat: Sanctum oleum benignum, Super caput tam indignum Meum fundis,—clarum signum: Meum vas redundat. 5. Immo bonitas divina, Valetudo genuina, Cum clementiâ supernâ, Et benignitas aeterna, Semper me sequentur. Dum in vita remanebo, Dei gratiâ gaudebo: Ejus domum habitabo, Ejus nomen collaudabo, Et indesinenter. Psalmus C. 1. In Jehovam vos ovate, Et gaudete, et cantate, Omnes terram habitantes. Laeti Dominum, servite, Et cum gaudio gestite, Coram Illum triumphantes. 2. Nostrûm Deus est Creator, Dominator et Salvator, Deus unus, Auctor rerum: Fecit nos, et nos nutrivit, Regit, tutat, repetivit, Oves perditos ad Herum. 3. Ejus portas introite; Claris laudibus adite; Illum Dominum clamantes: Illum bonum, semper verum, Fidelissimumque Herum, In eternum adorantes. “Nearer My God to Thee.” 1. Propius, O Deus mi, propius ad Te, Etiamsi crux erit quæ tollat me: Canam continue— Mi Deus, prope Te; Propius, O Deus mi, propius ad Te. 2. Erroni noctu quamvis similis, Quiescam super stratum lapidis,— Delectat esse me In somnis prope Te; Propius, O Deus mi, propius ad Te. 3. Ut scalae tunc ad coelos via sit; Quaecunque mihi des, clementiâ fit: Sunto coelicolae; Nutantes vocent me, Propius, O Deus mi, propius ad Te. 4. Tum experrecta laude fulget mens, Petrosis malis “Bethel” extruens: Sic moeror urget me, Mi Deus, prope Te, Propius, O Deus mi, propius ad Te. 5. Si laetis pennis findens aëra. Relictis stellis, petam supera— Quam jucundissime, Cantabo—Prope Te, Propius, O Deus mi, propius ad Te. “Rock of Ages Cleft for Me.” Rupes Saeculorum, Te, Pro me fissa, condam me! Aquae Fons et sanguinis, Duplex tui lateris, Scelerum purgatio Sit, et expiatio. Nunquam possim exsequi, Tua lex quæ mandet mi; Quamvis strenuus semper sim, Atque semper fleverim, Hoc nil expiaverit; In Te solo salus sit. Nil in manu tulero; Tuae cruci hæreo; Vestes mihi nudo des, Inopemque subleves; Fonti foedus advolo; Nisi laves pereo. Dum vitalem haurio vim, Cumque moribundus sim, Quum per stellas evolem,— Ante tuum thronum stem, Rupes Saeculorum, Te, Pro me fissa, condam me. “Jesus Refuge of My Soul!” O Præsidium, Jesu mi, Fugiam tuo pectori: Torrens propius æstuet, Dum procella fureret: Hoc in vitæ turbine, O Salvator, tege me! Fac ut tutus, integer, Tecum semper commorer. Soli es Refugio: Tibi lassus hæreo: Ne relinque solum me; Sit solatium per Te. Tibi dum confisus sim, Plenas opes tulerim: Me defende, debilem, Me tutator, inopem. Tu, O Jesu, mihi es Omnes res optabiles: Aegrum, lapsum, sublevas, Opem fesso, coeco, das: Facile es sanctissimus; Ego sum perimprobus, Fœdus, plenus scelerum— Tu, bonorum omnium. Gratia satis est in Te, Sontem perabsolvere. Fluat flumen affatim, Purus ut ex toto sim. Jesus, Fons vitalis es: Sumam quæ benigne des: Vive mi in pectore, Fons Aeternat Domine! “Abide With Me, Fast Falls the Eventide.” Mecum habita, Domine! ultima labitur hora diei: Quam tenebrae condensantur! Tu mecum habitato! Deficiunt adjutores, atque omnia grata; Tu, qui non spernes inopes, O mecum habitato! Ad metam tenuis vitæ, properant rapidae horae; Blanditiae pereunt, et transit gloria mundi: Omnia mutari, corrumpique, undique vidi; Tu qui immutatus remanes, O mecum habitato. Te, Domine, est mihi nunc opus omni hora fugienti: Tu solus valeas hostes mihi vincere saevos: Tu solus firmum me, et salvum ducere possis: In tranquillo, in turbinibus, Tu, O mecum habitato. Hostes non timeo, quum Tu stas praesto beare; Adversi casus faciles sunt absque dolore; Terrores mortis, stimuli, et victoria, desunt; Laetatusque exsultabo, nam mecum habitabis. Mi juvenescenti, blandus Tu nempe favisti; Ah me! quam brutus! quam perversusque remansi! Non discessisti a me, saepe ut deserui Te: O Domine, usque et ad extremum, Tu mecum habitato. Ad oculos crucem dormitanti mihi monstra; Illustra tenebras, et me erige visere coelos: En, umbrae fugiunt! et mane rubescere coepit! In vita, in morte, O Domine, O Tu mecum habitato! “Just as I Am Without One Plea.”

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