# Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/The Giving of the Bible to the Esquimaux

THE GIVING OF THE BIBLE TO THE ESQUIMAUX.
ROUND that wide bay whose waters sweep,
With slow—sad current, to the deep,
Hoarse billows beat the rugged shore,
Of cold and dismal Labrador.
There as the lonely sailor keeps
His night-watch o'er those awful deeps,
Sighs for his long deserted home
And hails the slowly rising moon,
Lo! icy cliffs of fearful size
Flash death before his startled eyes,
Cleave his frail bark with thund'ring crash,
As lightnings rend the lofty ash.
His frantic shrieks of thrilling pain
Rouse from their beds the helpless train,
Who soon shall sleep nor wake again.
Cold to the raft their limbs congeal,
Their icy hearts forget to feel,
Dim close their eyes in silent sleep
On their last couch—the northern deep.
Perchance upon the flinty beach,
Their dry, unburied bones may bleach,
Where desarts stretch in trackless snow,
And broad lakes rise that never flow,
And rocks of frost, with frightful ledge,
Hang sparkling o'er the water's edge.
There scarce the sun reluctant throws
A faint beam o'er the polar snows;
But wakes to speed his glowing car,
And shuns the icy coast from far;
Pale float his locks on frosted skies,
As in the waste the torch light dies.
There life's frail lamp with livid ray
Burns coldly in its cell of clay,
And lights a weak and dwindled race,
Devoid of science, wit or grace.
For them no spring, with gentle care,
Paints the young bud and scents the air;
Nor autumn bids the loaded stem
Scatter its fruitage fair for them.
No storied page, or learned strife,
Or arts that lend delight to life,
Or lighted dome, or festive song,
Shed lustre o'er their winter long.
But wrapt in skins, by long pursuit
Torn rudely, from the slaughter'd brute,
Close throng'd in hidden vaults they rest,
Within the drear earths' mouldering breast,
Hear the wild storm above them pour,
Or sunk in sleep forget its roar.
The long dark night, with heavy sway,
Hangs frowning o'er their homes of clay;
The twilight dim—the infant moon,
The pale sad stars that break the gloom
Glance coldly on their living tomb.
Ah! what can cheer that lonely spot,
Or bind the sufferer to his lot?
The hand that spread those frigid skies,
And gave the polar star to rise,
The hand that stretch'd that frozen plain,
And shew'd to man his drear domain,
Gave, to enhance the scanty store,
An humble mind that ask'd no more.
And yet a better boon than this  In later times he gave,
A warning voice, a call to bliss,
 A hope beyond the grave;
A page whose lustre shone to bless
The lone retreat of wretchedness.
He reads, he weeps, his prayers arise
To Him who hears a sinner's cries.
Sounds soft as music seem to roll,
Strong light is kindled in his soul,
While deep repentance, earnest prayer,
And grateful love are rising there;
And tears stand trembling in his eye
That for his sins, his Lord should die.
Now when the storm more feebly blows,
And cold plants creep through wasted snows,
When summer lifts her fleeting wings,
With ardour to his task he springs,
Blesses the hand that gilds the scene,
And kindly spreads the sky serene.
Nor wintry storms to him are drear,
Though hoarse they thunder in his ear,
Who in his humble cell at rest
Feels peace divine inspire his breast;
And sees fair hope in roseate bloom
Descend to share his clay built room.
Thus to his silent grave he goes,
And meekly sinks to long repose,
In firm belief at last to hear
The strong Archangel rend the sphere,
The trump proclaim the day of doom,
A hand break up his ice-bound tomb,
And bear him where no pain shall come,
No winter shroud the scene with gloom,
No stream congeal, no tempest rise,
No gloomy cell or darken'd skies,
No withering plant, no flinty soil,
Or pining want, or fruitless toil,
No lamp emit a glimmering ray,
No setting sun forsake the day;
But light shall beam before unknown
From Him who sits upon the throne,
And joy, and peace, and love shall cheer
The son of wintry realms severe,
Who, ransom'd by his Saviour's blood,
Cleans'd in that fountain's healing flood,
Still meek and uncomplaining trod,
And found a mansion with his God.