PRAYER FOR THE INDIAN—AND OURSELVES.
By Denis Wortman
[Dedicated to the Mohawk Indian Conference, by Denis Wortman, D.D.] FATHER of all the sons of men,
On land or sea, in field or fen,
Behold in our far Western wild
Thy wandering ward, Thy wasting child. We know not whence his ancestry,
Why he so poor, so favored we,
Why he from peace so long exiled;
We only know he is Thy child. Forgive us who with polished gun
Have hunted like some beast Thy son,
And to the death have oft beguiled
Thy wandering, trustful, child-like child. Forgive our weakening of the strong,
Our righting wrongs to make more wrong;
The heartless hurts our crimes have piled—
O, help us lift from off Thy child! Lord, may we, who have him enticed
To sin, now lead him to the Christ;
If in him we have Him reviled,
In both let us now see Thy child. With smarting heart and tear sincere,
O wounded God, we would bring near,
In love most tender, might most mild,
Thy lowly to Thy holy Child! O Lord of hosts, in Thee, in Thee,
Soon may the tribes of men stand free,
All, all forever reconciled
In heaven's and earth's one sovereign Child!