15

THE MISSIONARY.

My heart goes with thee, dauntless man, Freely as thou dost hie

To sojourn with some barbarous clar; For them to toil or die.

Fondly our spirits to our own

Cling, nor to part allow;

Thine to some land forlorn has flown ,­We turn, and where art thou?

Thou climb'st the vessel's lofty side, Numbers are gathering there; The youthful warrior in his pride, The merchant in his care:

Hearts which for knowledge track the seas.

Spirits which lightly move

Glad as the billows and the breeze­And thou- the child of love.

A savage shore receives thy tread, Companion thou hast none;

The wild boughs wave above thy head, Yet still thou journeyest on;

Threading the tangled wild- wood drear, Piercing the mountain glen, Till, wearily, thou drawest near The haunts of lonely men.