258 JOHN ELIOT, THE INDIAN APOSTLE.
With the staff of prayer and its scallop shell, Till he came to the open day.
And now we pause at the good man s side As he touches his earthly crown Where Natick stands :
"The place of hills," The Indian s Christian town. The drum-beat sounds ; tis sermon-time: From the wigwams far and near Gather dusky forms to the preacher s side, Of the grand New Trail to hear. They gather in to the rounded fort, To the house their hands have made, With its " prophet s chamber " up above, Its fittings in order laid.
From the "Bay State Psalm-Book s" open page Reads Monequessun,* line by line, A glad triumphant song of praise That thrills o er the list ning pine, Until the forests of Natick ring With the song of Love Divine. Then, lifting upward the busy hands That garnered this harvest in From the dusky aisles of the wilderness, From its sullen gloom of sin, The good Apostle, in words they know, Of the "hidden treasure" tells, And still on pardon, mercy, grace, With a loving accent dwells
- The Indian reader.
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