THE DEDICATION OF OUR FIRST POLYNESIAN CHURCH.
By Cora Chapman
THE 29th of November, the long looked for day of the dedication of our church at Arue, Tahiti, will always be remembered, we believe, as one of the waymarks pointing to a new era in our missionary work for this people. Great preparation had been made by men, women, and children learning new hymns and verses for the occasion. We had also taken great pains to teach them some of the songs translated from “Hymns and Tunes,” to sing at that time, some of which were, “Wait and Murmur Not,” “Galilee,” “Shall We Meet?” “Give Me the Bible,” and “Hear the Conclusion.” At about 10:30 A.M. the people, having gathered at Brother Dean’s house, stood in groups on either side of the path leading to the church door, and sang the opening hymn. The prince then opened the double doors and all walked in, taking seats for the first time in their own little church. We felt to lift our hearts in praise to our Heavenly Father that we were at last permitted to worship him in a church all our own; we had met so long in the room of a private house, where dogs had free access and children ran about at will. To teach them reverence for the house of God was then almost impossible. The first on the program was a song by our schoolchildren, “Something to Do,” followed by a short prayer. A great many hymns were sung, among which were some we taught them. They sounded very nice indeed. Psalms 118 was read, and Brother Dean spoke to the people, having for his text Gen. 28: 17: “And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” The meeting being dismissed, we were called to breakfast. It is a universal custom with the natives to have a feast connected with all such occasions. With the word “feast” is usually conveyed the idea of revelry and gormandizing; but this was simply a twelve o’clock breakfast, without which I think we would have suffered great inconvenience. The natives ate their food from leaves spread on the ground, real native style; but for the Europeans, Americans, and leading Tahitians, a long table was spread under the shade of a roof thatched with palm leaves and supported by bamboo poles, each of which was wrapped with cocoanut leaves. The same kind of leaves, split in two through the center, were artistically draped between each pole. Green and yellow tea leaves hung in bunches here and there, and bright flowers found their places among the green leaves wherever the eye would turn. Two French flags waved gracefully over the roof. It was altogether a very inviting spot, and especially so to one who had not yet breakfasted. There were a few vacant chairs, as some of the invited guests were not able to be present, on account of the recent death of the ex-governor’s wife. The seat of honor was filled by the prince of Tahiti, nephew of the late King Pomare. Two hours were spent at the table, as the meal consisted of ten courses and was served in French style. Most of the afternoon the natives lay around asleep on mats, preparing themselves for the evening meeting, or I might more properly call it the night session. Seven o’clock found us all in the church again. The first hour was occupied by Brother Read, who delivered an address on “The Rise and Progress of the Third Angel’s Message.” The rest of the time was spent singing and repeating verses from the Bible, all of which were on the life of Christ. It was very interesting. The whole thing was something like a dialogue. One would rise, repeat some verses, and another would give the explanation of them. Sometimes one would ask questions bearing on the subject, and another would answer with verses of Scripture. Each seemed to know just when his turn came. I believe about eighty passages from the Bible were taken up. The hands of the clock pointed to ten—eleven—twelve—and one—and still they seemed no nearer the end than when they began. When the eyes of some would begin to droop, they would soon be awakened by a vigorous shake from the one nearest by, or by a lively native song from some one of the divisions, the nature of which is not such as would soon lull one to sleep. It was well that we had to assist in the singing occasionally to overcome the somnolence that was getting such a strong hold on us. At half past one, however, “Hear the Conclusion,” or, as it is called in Tahitian, “Faaroo na Tatou,” was sung, and we were excused. They continued the meeting until six o’clock in the morning, and at half past seven all went to their homes, as they expressed it, “satisfied.” CORA CHAPMAN.
Papeete, Tahiti, Dec. 7, 1893.