Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MORAVIAN MISSIONS, by JAMES MONTGOMERY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MORAVIAN MISSIONS, by             Poem Explanation     Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Was there no mercy, mother of the slave
Last Line: He wakes to life, he springs to liberty.
Alternate Author Name(s): The Common Lot
Subject(s): Missions & Missionaries; Moravian Brethren; Slavery; Serfs


Was there no mercy, mother of the slave,
No friendly hand to succour and to save,
While commerce thus thy captive tribes oppressed,
And lowering vengeance linger'd o'er the west?
Yes, Africa! beneath the stranger's rod
They found the freedom of the sons of God.

When Europe languish'd in barbarian gloom,
Beneath the ghostly tyranny of Rome,
Whose second empire, cowled and mitred, burst
A phoenix from the ashes of the first;
From Persecution's piles, by bigots fired,
Among Bohemian mountains truth retired;
There, 'midst rude rocks, in lonely glens obscure,
She found a people scattered, scorned, and poor,
A little flock through quiet valleys led,
A Christian Israel in the desert fed,
While ravening wolves, that scorned the shepherd's hand,
Laid waste God's heritage through every land.
With these the lovely exile sojourned long;
Soothed by her presence, solaced by her song,
They toiled through danger, trials, and distress,
A band of virgins in the wilderness,
With burning lamps, amid their secret bowers,
Counting the watches of the weary hours,
In patient hope the Bridegroom's voice to hear,
And see his banner in the clouds appear:
But when the morn returning chased the night,
These stars, that shone in darkness, sunk in light:
Luther, like Phosphor, led the conquering day,
His meek forerunners waned, and passed away.

Ages rolled by, the turf perennial bloomed
O'er the lorn relics of those saints entombed;
No miracle proclaimed their power divine,
No kings adorned, no pilgrims kissed their shrine;
Cold and forgotten in the grave they slept:
But God remembered them: -- their Father kept
A faithful remnant; -- o'er their native clime
His Spirit moved in His appointed time,
The race revived at His almighty breath,
A seed to serve Him, from the dust of death,

"Go forth, my sons, through heathen realms proclaim
Mercy to sinners in a Saviour's name:"
Thus spake the Lord; they heard and they obeyed; --
Greenland lay wrapt in nature's heaviest shade;
Thither the ensign of the cross they bore;
The gaunt barbarians met them on the shore;
With joy and wonder hailing from afar,
Through polar storms, the light of Jacob's star.

Where roll Ohio's streams, Missouri's floods,
Beneath the umbrage of eternal woods,
The Red Man roamed, a hunter-warrior wild;
On him the everlasting Gospel smiled;
His heart was awed, confounded, pierced, subdued,
Divinely melted, moulded, and renewed;
The bold base savage, nature's harshest clod,
Rose from the dust the image of his God.
And thou, poor Negro! scorned of all mankind;
Thou dumb and impotent, and deaf and blind;
Thou dead in spirit! toil-degraded slave,
Crushed by the curse on Adam to the grave;
The messengers of peace, o'er land and sea,
That sought the sons of sorrow, stopped to thee.
The captive raised his slow and sullen eye;
He knew no friend, nor deemed a friend was nigh,
Till the sweet tones of Pity touched his ears,
And Mercy bathed his bosom with her tears;
Strange were those tones, to him those tears were strange,
He wept and wondered at the mighty change,
Felt the quick pang of keen compunction dart,
And heard a small still whisper in his heart,
A voice from heaven, that bade the outcast rise
From shame on earth to glory in the skies.

From isle to isle the welcome tidings ran;
The slave that heard them started into man:
Like Peter, sleeping in his chains, he lay,
The angel came, his night was turned to day:
"Arise!" his fetters fall, his slumbers flee;
He wakes to life, he springs to liberty.




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