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THE DYING INDIAN'S DREAM

And may Thy mighty arm, Protect them from all harm,

v I leave them at Thy call,

Mother and children all;

Oh! let no fears appal!

And let them never fear nor fall! I trust them Lord, to Thee,

Thou wilt their Father be,

For time and for eternity.

Thy promises are sure,

The needy, helpless poor, Though crushed to death and dust, May in Thy goodness trust,

And rest upon Thy Word,

Thou ever blessed Lord!”

“ Oh, bless my people! bless Them in their helplessness! Their poverty and wretchedness, Their misery and distress.

Bless the whole Indian race! That they may know Thy grace! Do thou their hearts prepare, That they may freely share, Those blessings rich and rare, That from the Gospel flow,— Salvation here below,

At all times trusting Thee, and go To that bright world on high,

Of Glory when they die;

That they may shine,

In Love divine,

And with Thee rest

Forever blest! ” X.

Now droops his weary head Exhausted on his bed.