From the Religious Intelligencer.
FROM A CHEROKEE CHILD TO THE CHILDREN OF THE U.S.
[There is a pathos in the following beautiful lines which must touch the heart of those who can feel for others woes. We hope those to whom it is addressed will regard the supplication -'PRAY FOR US.']
We had a Teacher, and his voice was kind
To us poor Indians.- Though his brow was white,
He did not scorn us.-When he spake of Him
Who took young children in his arms, and died
Upon the cross for sinners, such a light
Would kindle in his eye, and he would strive
So for our soul's salvation, that we blest
His holy tenderness. But he is gone,
They took him from us. Men who would not heed
Our misery, did hang a heavy chain
About his neck, and o'er the rocky road
And through the storm and darkness, lead him on
To lock him in a prison. Side by side,
With the blood shedder, and the thief he toils.
Clad in coarse garments and with no fond smile
Of wife or babe to cheer him. Months have fled.
And they release him not. Yet he hath done
No harm, except to teach the Cherokees
Their Bible-duty and the hope of Heaven
That glorious home from whence no one can drive.-
Each night I weep, and ask the white man's God
To give us back our Teacher.-Pray for us,
White children!-happy children!- you who know
Far more then us.-Oh! when you kneeling ask
Pity for those who mourn, beg God to bring
our blessed Teacher from his prison house
That we may listen to his words again.
Hartford Feb. 16th 1832
L. H. S.