JOHN ELIOT, THE INDIAN APOSTLE.
Still thanking Him that the copper coin Of the Master s realm should be Redeemed, and in His image cast, Through his mercy wide and free.
Ah ! faithful one, that open door . " Cleare sunshine "* through it shows ; The wilderness has awaked to song, And the desert found her rose.
��Once more we stand by our kinsman s side, Drawing nearer to Beulah s gate, In his patient way asking only help For his call from the King to wait. A year ago, faithful Anne went on, And the saint has been heard to say, " That the friends beloved gone on before Would fear he had missed the way."
More than fourscore years his head have bowed
The pilgrim is waiting there,
And he sits with his idle folded hands
At rest, in his study-chair.
His feet no more in the wilderness
For the wandering sheep may stray,
But the far outreaching thrill of prayer
Farther runs than his step, to-day.
His hands still proffer his open purse, That needs neither tie nor rings ;
- Title of an old book in reference to his work.
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