1854 - Richardson, J. The First Christian Martyr of the New Zealand Church - CHAPTER V, p 42-51

Why dwell then on such scenes? and why portray
Humiliation's deepest depth? "Tis well
To see the rock from whence we're hewn, the pit
From whence we're digg'd, and viewing, duly prize
The grace which makes the desert to rejoice,
And as the rose to blossom. Did we need
To soften tints, we might by contrast show
How abolition's noble act, the growth
Of near two thousand years, was far eclips'd
By one spontaneous unrequited deed,
When list'ning isles, rejoicing, heard the sound
"Arise and shine because thy light is come."
But we refrain, let other scenes our thoughts
Engage. The summer's sun is bright, and fields
Of rip'ning corn their golden ears disport
In waves of joy; the sweet Koomera joins,
In language such as vegetative life
Can eloquently use, to sing His praise
Whom circling worlds unceasingly adore.
Nor is man silent; man, within whose lap
The richest gifts have lavishly been pour'd,
His voice is that of joy, the voice of praise.
Cloth'd in their gayest garb the village teems
With living throngs of overflowing mirth,
As headed by their priest they outward flow
Towards the smiling fields. No hand disturbs
The thirsty ground until the priest evokes

A blessing from on high, for untold wealth
May prove a curse unless such blessing gain'd.
Scarce was it sought than like the clust'ring bees
They swarm around the crops, and joyous glean
Their rich and golden fruits. The priest proceeds
To bless the public store, and thus protect
From vulgar touch its now replenish'd wealth. --
The "Harvest Home" is o'er, and winter claims
Its annual reign; the winter'd mind
Of man no less demands its annual meal;
Revenge once more is hunger'd and athirst.
The dead demand redress; no less than blood.
For blood can payment make, and, when, to minds
By superstition blind, the dead declaim,
The vengeful heart a ready answer gives.
As coming storms send forth unerring signs,
So tidings early reach'd the Mission Church
Of coming ill; the Missionary's mind
Was sore perplex'd at such repeated acts
Of unprovok'd attack. He spreads the case
Before the God of truth, and humbly seeks
His counsel and His aid: nor long he waits.
Commending to His care the infant Church,
And all besides whom he holds dear on earth,
He starts for Taupo's lake to stem the flood.
A friendly foe, for such there often is,
Sends word of well digested plan to kill
The man of God if he attempt to stand
Between the heathen and their lawful prey;

No terrors shake his mind; he full well knows
"To him to live is Christ, to die is gain,"
And onward moves. Vain is the heathen's rage,
He stands unarm'd on Taupo's sacred banks.
Te Heu Heu listens to his strange appeal,
And list'ning, melts. He whom we lately view'd
As scatt'ring death among the Christian ranks
Asks for a man of God to guide his tribe,
And offer makes of land on which to dwell.
Far other language does his brother hold,
The bold Iwikau; furiously he spurns
The olive branch of peace, and loudly calls
For one more fight by which his incens'd god
May be appeas'd, and, then, let discord end.
Faint, but believing still, the man of peace
Retires dismay'd; yet, though the dread intent
Is not foregone, it is at least deferr'd.
How often may the thoughtful mind perceive
Amid the darkest nights a cheering beam,
If, deep in earnest pray'r, it looks on high;
The storms of life may roar, the billows roll,
But, with the eye of faith fast fix'd on Him
Who rules the raging of the sea, it views
A gentle genial breeze, an ocean's calm.
Te Heu Heu dies, and bold Iwikau rules
Without restraint. Strange blessing this indeed
Man by no mental effort could perceive
The stately pine lodg'd in the humble cone;
Nor faint conjecture form how from a bud

Could spring, as once Minerva sprang,
Complete in all their varying parts, the trunk,
And leaf, gay flower, and luscious fruit. --
The vale in which Te Heu Heu liv'd, by name
Te Rapa, undulating northward falls;
Beside it flows Waikat'o's noble stream
And Taupo's lake reposes in its front.
Around are beauteous hills, the monuments
By nature rais'd as tribute to her God.
Here Heu Heu liv'd in patriarchal state
Amid his wives, his children, and his slaves,
Nor dream'd that danger ever dar'd approach;
And so we often dream, in fancy's flights,
Of ease and peace, till, dying, we awake.
For many days the heavy clouds had pour'd
Their frequent showers o'er the lofty hills
And many a cavern fill'd and clos'd.
The mass thus seal'd, by central heat inflam'd,
Originated steam, and this condens'd
Burst through its bonds, casts down a mountain's side,
And bars the progress of a stream. The night
Was densely dark, and 'mid the hills the clouds
Pour'd down their ceaseless flood; the thunder roll'd
In accents harsh; with bright and vivid flash
The lightning's blaze illumin'd all around.
One loud report, as if to herald woe,
Burst on the sleeping tribe, and fix'd its fate.
The yielding dam, at length, with fearful crash
Gives way, and downward leaps the roaring stream.

Short warning did it give. Te Heu Heu sees
His wives, his eldest son, and threescore men,
Engulph'd and borne along to Taupo's lake;
Sternly he stands erect, with flowing locks
White as the driven snow, of noble mien,
And of majestic height, and calmly views
The spreading plague, and then with haste he grasps
A neighb'ring pine and quickly climbs aloft.
With arm outstretch'd the sea god he invokes,
But supplicates in vain: the stately tree
Yields to the oft repeated shock and falls;
The op'ning stream a ready welcome gives,
And clasps Te Heu Heu in its fond embrace,
Nor ever clasp'd one less inclin'd to live.
Who that affliction's softening power has felt,
Or wept the loss of one without whom life
Is but a wilderness of joyless thought;
Who lives, as vegetation lives, and dies
A wither'd thing but for the Christian's hope:
Who thus has felt can fully feel the pangs
Which rends Iwikau's heart, while he laments
His brother's loss. As iron heated yields
A pliant homage to the smith's design,
So man, upon whose head affliction falls,
Submissive yields. No longer warlike thoughts
Absorb Iwikau's mind; he forthwith melts
And with sincere solicitation seeks
A visit from the messenger of peace. --
As murmuring streams rejoice the panting hart

And friendly shade in Asia's burning sands
Revives the pilgrim during noontide heat,
So this unwonted strain from Taupo's banks
Harmonious strikes upon the anxious ear.
The Church's earnest prayers are heard on high,
And gloomy winter yields to hopeful spring.
The Missionary's heart reviving leaps;
He lonely bends before the God of grace
And burning words of praise, as incense, rise
Unto the Saviour's throne. Girt with the sword
Which quick discerns the secrets of each heart,
And clad complete in armour form'd in heaven,
Which oft has stood unscath'd 'gainst Satan's wiles,
He starts his blessed mission to fulfil.
And now how different the scene from that
Which met his view when last he came uncall'd;
No voice of welcome then his spirit cheer'd,
But now six hundred tongues in union join
And loud the welcome rings o'er echoing hills.
Among the tribe whose fate we have described
Were four of low degree, who late had bow'd
Before the Christian's God and Him alone.
Their bodies stranded by receding waves
Had been remov'd within the forest shade
To wait the coming of the Priest of God.
With ready sympathy the heathen share
The sorrows of the hour; in multitudes
They throng their light canoes; each face declares
An inward grief, and, on each head is borne,

In honor of the day, a dark green branch:
In form triangular the barks proceed
With slow and measur'd stroke; the air is rent
With wails, and many an eye unbidden yields,
A tearful tribute to the solemn scene.
The glorious truths which Jesus came to preach,
And by His holy life to illustrate,
And by His blood to seal, were deeply press'd
Upon their willing hearts. Iwlkau lists,
And list'nihg, prays; and, praying, he receives
What prayer alone obtains, faith, hope, and love.
And, not on him alone this blessing rests;
In Herekiekie's heart the fallen seed
Finds soil congenial, and, expanding, grows.
-------------------But, let us haste
To Whanganu'i's banks and there behold
Refreshing scenes. The summer's sun has reach'd
Its southern bound, and swiftly down the stream
Glides many a bark, and merry sounds arise,
And cheerful faces smile, and nature, e'en,
Her best attire assumes and also smiles.
The rapids loudly roar, but cool and calm
The helmsman firmly holds the steering oar,
Calls for redoubled energies, and then,
Seizing the happy moment ere it pass,
Floats in the tranquil stream. But why this tide
Of human beings borne toward the sea?
Is war the guiding impulse? are they arm'd
To meet some threaten'd foe, or to revenge

Some fancied sleight, or unprovok'd attack?
The arms they bear were never forg'd on earth,
The object sought one angels e'en might prize.
The evergreens which deck the Mission Church
Speak of that sacred day on which was heard
The sweet ton'd melody of heav'nly hosts
Singing the praise of Him whose tender care
The mighty scheme of man's redemption plann'd.
They come to celebrate His praise, whose love
"No language knows sufficient art to trace;"
They come that they may eat and drink in faith
The consecrated elements by which
His precious death is ever brought to mind,
And, on th' appointed altar humbly lay
The sacrifice of praise and thankful hearts;
They meet beneath the canopy of heaven,
The clover'd field a ready church provides.
Yes, nature smiles, and all around is clad
In freshest green, and Nature's Church is deck'd
With living boughs; and still the robin asks
His daily meal, and pardon asks in song
For having left his scarlet coat at home
Where holly berries grow; but still we miss 1
The fond embrace, the beaming smile, the tear
Which love as tribute pays to objects lov'd,
The merry ringing laugh of buoyant youth,
The sober joy of fast declining age,
The hearty wish from honest yeoman's lips.
All these we miss, and all the thousand ties

Which bind the Briton to his island home.
But these, alas, are often sought in vain
E'en in that holy land; some foreign whim
Supplants the games embalm'd from ages past
Deep in the nation's love.
The joyful notes from full two thousand tongues
Are gently hush'd, and scarce a sound is heard
When Manihe'ra forward stands to speak.
A solemn awe pervades each earnest mind
As, telling of the mercy shewn to him,
He volunteers the Gospel truths to teach
To Taupo's heathen race. Nor he alone,
Keropa longs to join and share the risk.
The Church accepting bless the holy men,
As Barnabas and Paul of old were bless'd,
And to Hiscare commend who can protect
From stalking plague, or arrow's deadly flight.
Before they reach their journey's end, they call
At Roto-airo's lake, where Christian friends
A hearty welcome gave, and sage advice;
They earnestly entreat, that, as by one
Of Manihera's tribe there fell a chief
Renown'd, they would secure Iwlkau's aid.
To Maniher'a's mind the counsel seem'd
As if distrusting God, and he resolv'd
On Himto trust, and put no faith in man.
Time flew apace, while they convers'd and view'd
The present and the past; while they compar'd
Their present hopes with superstition's dark

And dreary age. Warm'd by the noble theme,
(And who could coldly talk, or feebly feel,
With truth at once the subject and the flame?)
They reach Tokanu's truly welcome shade,
And ent'ring there recline on grassy knolls
Suggestive of repose. The stately pine
Her moral reads, as springing straight from earth
Without one break or branch full fourscore feet,
It soars aloft, and points to realms above;
Beside it stands, majestic in its form,
The giant rata deck'd in crimson garb,
Whose outstretch'd arms a ready shelter gives
From summer's heat, or winter's drenching rain.
Refresh'd they onward move, and still converse
On holy themes, and Manihera tells
Of some foreboding ill whose near approach
No human aid can stay; though thus assur'd
Of death's advance he halts not in his course.
A pause ensues; the prelude to a storm
Foreseen but yet not fear'd; two fatal balls
Their destin'd objects reach. Keropa dies
Without a sigh; while Manihera gasps
Within the arms of agonizing death;
A brother Christian's hand receives from his
That blessed Book which daily fed his faith,
While 'mid convulsive throes, his gushing words
Proclaim its great unutterable worth.