SIDNEY LANIER.
But there's a dome of nobler span,
A temple given
Thy faith, that bigots dare not ban--
Its space is heaven!
It's roof star-pictured Nature's ceiling,
Where, trancing the rapt spirit's feeling,
And God Himself to man revealing,
Th' harmonious spheres
Make music, though unheard their pealing
By mortal ears!
THOMAS CAMPBELL.
God! sing ye meadow streams with gladsome voice!
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm!
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!
Ye signs and wonders of the elements,
Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise! . . .
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises GOD!
COLERIDGE.
FOREWORD
"We also have a religion which was given to our forefathers,
and has been handed down to us their children. It teaches us to be
thankful, to be united, and to love one another! We never quarrel
about religion."
Thus spoke the great Seneca orator, Red Jacket, in his superb
reply to Missionary Cram more than a century ago, and I have often
heard the same thought expressed by my countrymen.
I have attempted to paint the religious life of the typical
American Indian as it was before he knew the white man. I
have long wished to do this, because I cannot find that it has ever
been seriously, adequately, and sincerely done.
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