CHAPTER VI.
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CHAPTER VI.
Scarce had the tidings reach'd the infant Church
Than darkest thoughts, long dormant, rearise;
But first the messenger of peace declares
His firm intent once more to face the foe;
Perchance, again his mission may be bless'd.
His purpose never yet had long to wait,
When duty call'd, for corresponding deed.
Though threats pursue, no threats can bar his way.
Tokanu reach'd, no welcome sound is heard;
Th' assembled chiefs in gloomy silence sit.
Hermapo, rising, speaks; his words are few--
"Would that my ears had heard the cheering sound
"Which welcomes friends. " Tohana quick replies.
"By feeling prompted, and by duty led,
"I gladly came with him who comes for peace.
"But strange my errand is; yes, passing strange,
"Silence best suits my mind, unless this act
"Of deep malignity be disavowed.
Manuka, by whose hand one martyr fell,
Upholds the deed as in accordance close
With custom's ancient universal claim.
Silence, once more, resumes her gloomy reign;
At length a voice is heard, in accents mild,
Well suited to a messenger of peace--
"Vengeance is mine," says God, "I will repay."
"To Him then let us leave the treach'rous deed,
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"And let the blood now spill'd be used as means
"A lasting peace to bind. From out your chiefs
"Let one be sent on embassage of peace.
"This healing balm on Herekiekie's heart
Falls as the morning dew. "You full well know
"How usage loudly cries that blood for blood
"Should freely flow. Better thoughts and hopes, I hear,
"Prevail among those truly happy tribes
"Who name the name of Christ; but Christian love
"Will plead in her behalf by whom such love
"Was never known. My mother deeply mourn'd
"Her husband kill'd by Manihera's tribe,
"And vengeance took. I truly grieve that blood
"Has flow'd, and would have stay'd the cursed hand
"Had I been there. Let one of Manihera's tribe
"Assurance give that vengeance is foregone,
"And then let peace her blessed reign proclaim."
Scant were the courtesies pass'd, and small the hope
That war would not arise. They pass the spot
Baptiz'd with Christian blood, and there they kneel
In fervent prayer: the doubtful cause is spread
Before the Lord, committed to His care;
They read the sacred page by God inscrib'd,
And learn how they who die in Christ are bless'd,
How resting from their toil they richly reap,
By God's free grace, the harvest of their works. --
On their return they faithfully report
The failure of their cause, as view'd by man,
And speak of One who silently endur'd
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Unjust reproach, and persecution's storms
Without a threat, but, to Him who judgeth right
His case, confiding, left. --
The circling sun returns not on their wrath.
Again from Whanganu'i's streams, and from
The winding Wai'tera's banks, and from the lands
Which nestling lie beneath mount Egmont's shade,
The Christians come to keep their annual feast.
The canopy of heav'n again their Church.
Each from his store a portion freely gives
To aid the Christian cause in heathen lands,
And, while thus mindful of a foreign claim
They equal homage pay to home demands.
They dwell with pain on Manihera's death;
Their hearts beat high; one stimulating word
Would fan the flame, and rouse their ancient fires.
But no such word is heard, Peripi stands
Erect, but, in his eye, and in his mien,
No trace appears of aught but love and peace.
"The heathen ask that Manihera's tribe
"Should send a chief to make assurance sure
"Of wrongs forgiv'n. Well, be it so. I go.
"If in the yawning gulph of human wrath
"I fall entomb'd I know that Heso wills
"Who doeth all things well; a martyr's crown
"I do not seek, but if one sacrifice
"Be still requir'd, on me the lot be cast.
"This day, when in the feast of holy faith,
"In glad remembrance of a sacrifice
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"Once offer'd, complete and full in all its parts,
"I gave myself to God, not by constraint
"Except of love, this was my fix'd design.
"God's will be done and hallow'd be His name."
Now Puran'eera forward stands and asks
That he might share in such freewill oblation;
His friends dissuade the chief, but all in vain.
"If one canoe the raging seas engulph
"And peace be gain'd, then let it be, I go."
The day on which they near'd the sacred spot
Was beauteously fair; the clouds had pour'd
Their tearful homage to the coming scene;
The thunder had, in softest murmurs, spoke
Unqualified applause; and, by its sparks
Of living fire, the lightning had subdued
Each harden'd heart of stone to heart of flesh;
And Tongariro's snowy head had backward glanc'd,
To deck the welcome sight, its borrow'd beams;
The flowers their fragrance gave; and songsters
From the forest's glades attend, unmindful
Of their rules, and, like the chime of distant bells
To sweetest harmony attun'd, they lend
Their notes; the stately pine, which scarce will bend
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Beneath the raging storm, approving nods.
Yes, all accord. The God of nature smiles,
And when
Hesmiles He lights up all around.
The gladsome news had flown on willing wings
Far in advance; and, as they clear the shade
Of overhanging trees, the welcome wail
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Pours forth its cheering notes from countless hearts.
All hail the messenger of peace, and hail
The Christian friends who share his work of love.
Not one discordant note is struck to mar
The universal joy. A voice is heard
From Whanganu'i's banks; it speaks aloud.
"We seek no payment for our brother's blood;
"If other thoughts had sway, not in this guise
"Should we appear on Taupo's banks. The Lord
"Allow'd the bloody deed, and what Hedoes
"Is wisely done. Let discord flee the land.
"From henceforth one canoe will hold us all."
By common impulse mov'd they all proceed
Toward the spot where Manihera lies
Held by Keropa's hand: the sacred hymn
Peals through the neighbouring wood; when hushed,
A voice is heard, the voice of pray'r; it asks
That peace, which understanding fails to grasp,
May keep all hearts and minds completely taught
And fix'd in love to God and to His Son;
While from the soften'd tribes the loud Amen
Approving, seals the compact heard on high. --
Enraptur'd with my theme, which oft has cheer'd
At midnight's silent hour when o'er the wave
My buoyant bark its homeward track pursued,
I ling'ringly advance, most loath to add
The final link, to sketch the parting scene. --
The sun to moderate its burning rays
Has northward roam'd, and Autumn freely flings
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Her variegated tints on all around;
From mountain tops the silv'ry cascade skips
With joyous bound to reach the parent stream
Which gently flows towards the southern straits;
The rapid's deaf'ning roar subsides in peace,
Lost in the murmuring notes of sober joy,
As o'er the stream there glides the light canoe
On embassage of love: the joyous crew
Pour forth their merry lay in strict accord,
While, swiftly plied, the paddle marks the time.
But one there is who silent sits, alone,
No, not alone, for close the converse held
With his own thoughts; his mind unbidden calls
The past to view, and as he contrast makes
With present scenes, the placid stream reflects
The beaming smile that lightens up his face.
When last he northward mov'd no distant streak
Of doubtful light cast e'en a truant ray
To cheer his future path; like one of old
His hoping heart reposed in firmest faith
On nature's God, and more, the God of grace.
But now the seed by martyr's blood enrich'd
Bright promise gives of overflowing fruit;
The clouds whose low'ring aspect frown'd
On all his cherish'd schemes, as vapour, fly
And leave the bow of promise in the skies.
But whither is he bent? what duty calls?
Let passing scenes the ready answer give.
Once more I stand on Whanganu'i's banks,
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Not far remote from where the heathen pour'd
His desolating hordes; no hateful yells
Discordant rise and rend the very air,
No maddening dance excites disgust and fear,
Two thousand heads are bent in solemn pray'r,
Two thousand tongues proclaim Jehovah's praise.
In triple row they range themselves around
The minister of God; the dead and dying
Form the nearest rank; beyond them circling
Stand full many a chief who erst had scorn'd
The Saviour's name, but now impatient waits
The impress of the Cross; beyond again
Are congregated hosts who joyful throng
To keep the holy feast of Christian love.
The morning hymn, our childhood's earliest pray'r,
Subsides in praise among the distant hills,
And from the kneeling hosts the solemn tones
Of heartfelt penitence, as incense, rise
And find acceptance at the throne of grace,
While gently wafted by the genial breeze
We hear the Litany's deep plaintive strains,
Bright reflex of the melody of heaven.
How oft within the humble village Church
Of our own island home my heart has warm'd
At sounds like these, the dearly cherish'd forms
Of bygone years, which infants' hps have lisp'd
And martyr'd saints a fitting language found.
Among the hosts whose earnest prayers ascend
That wars may cease, and peace and concord reign,
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Are many a chief who late have frenzied led
Their madden'd tribes in many a hard fought field,
Their deep scarr'd face can no emotion tell,
But in those solemn tones a language speaks,
And in that glistening eye a voice is heard,
The utterance of the heart. Now all is hush'd
As each with eager gaze intently waits
The ministry of truth. Galatia's fall
A fearful warning gives to steadfast stand
In liberty's fair fields; to guard the mind
From deep entanglement in empty forms
Or vain attempts to satisfy the Law.
The preacher clearly shows how Christ alone
Could full atonement make for man's misdeeds,
And how, through Him,a faith which works by love
Can reattire the soul in pristine truth
And lead it scatheless through a world of sin.
A people willing in His day of power
Obey by instinct, and by love fulfil
The utmost rigours of the law's demands.
No water can avail to cancel sin
Unless by Him applied; no virtue rests
In blind obedience, nor in priestly act.
The sacramental elements present
A vivid picture of a Saviour's love,
And when by faith receiv'd endow with strength
The longing, thirsting soul; but it alone.
No lordly mastery he proudly claims
To bind as slaves the freemen of the Lord,
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No access does he vaunt to God's domain
By others not possess'd; the Spirit's grace
His strength; his guide the Bible's blessed truths.
To God in Christ, and to His word of grace
He bids them go in faith, and daily search
The Scripture's sacred page, for there,
alone
Authoritative truth unsullied shines;
Once quit the sacred fount and drink of streams,
By other springs supplied, each draught conveys
A doubtful nurture or a deadly drug.
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He ceas'd. In prayer they suppliant kneel
And humbly ask that sanctifying grace
May mystically wash from taint of sin
These converts to His name: nor vainly ask;
The healing water bathes each contrite soul
With renovating grace, confirms their faith
And seals admission to the Church of God. --
Once more they bend the knee before the Lord
Who from his throne, on high, benignly smiles,
And, with the sacramental bread and wine,
Conveys His grace in soul refreshing streams;
Their penitence a deeper dye receives,
Their steadfast purpose of amended life
A sterner cast, while faith more clearly views
A Saviour's travail in a ransom'd race.
And now we hear the solemn measur'd tread
Which whispers death; we see the heaving breast,
And mark the gushing tear and deep drawn sigh,
Affection's off'ring to departed worth.
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We stand in death's domain; the yawning grave
Expectant waits to clasp its welcome guest;
It bids us yield, from our own warm embrace
To its chill arms, the dearly cherish'd form
O'er which our aching hearts have ceaseless bent
In many a silent hour; imperious bids,
And no denial takes. In hours like these
We feel the sting of death, we keenly hear
The grave's triumphant shout of victory. --
But our Redeemer lives; at his command
The grave must yield its dead; restore its prey.
Oh bless'd indeed are they who die
in Him;
O'er whose remains the Church's earnest hope
Is dim foreshadow of a blissful fact.
To them death oft a welcome friend appears;
His stealthy tread is hail'd with pure delight;
His grasp but rends this tenement of clay
And plumes the soul to wing its way to God.
Yes, bless'd indeed, for then they faultless stand
Before the Father's throne accepted sons.
The righteous robe they wear, their Saviour's
gift,
The golden crown
His undeserv'd reward,
Their
fitnessbut the Spirit's free born grace.
Yes, truly bless'd. Eternity's vast span
Must fail to stretch beyond their throbbing joy
Which no alloy can know:
in Christthey dwell,
And language fails to tell a surer rest.
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