God of my Fathers

Some years ago, one of the North American Indians, 
a chief, visited our country, and at several large meetings 
told his story. That story was given in something like 
the following words : — 

^' I was a worshipper of the sun, and moon, and stars, 
some fourteen years ago, when I heard a missionary 
preach of a beautiful heaven, into which, he said, all the 
righteous should enter, and of a dreadful hell, into 
which all the wicked must be cast. I asked, ' Is there 
any chance of a Chippewa Indian getting to heaven?' 
I was told, ' Oh yes, heaven is open to all who believe in 
Jesus, God's Son, if we come through Him we shall 
find a warm welcome and a ready entrance.' I was glad 
at this, for my sins began to trouble me ; I was like one 
of our Indian deer, when it is shot by the hunter; it 
flies over the hills and prairies until it becomes weary 
with its exertions and faint with loss of blood; it falls 
down, and turns first on one side, and then on the other 
side, and at last it dies. Thus it was with me, the pain in 
my heart rankled sorely, and I could get no rest from its 
smart. But I prayed to God : however, I thought God 
would only hear me if I prayed to Him in the English 
language. I did not know much English^ but I said, 
^Oh Christ, have mercy upon me, poor sinner, poor 
Indian.' About that time I was asked out to dine. 
Before dinner a blessing was asked in the English lan- 
guage, '^Ah,' I thought, 'God understands that;' but 
after dinner, thanks were returned in the Chippewa 
language, and I thought, 'If God understands your 
Chippewa, He will understand mine.' I went home, I 
crept up into a little hayloft, and in my native tongue, I 
poured out my heart before the Lord, I said with Jacob, 
' Oh Christ, I will not let Thee go except Thou bless me,' 
and before the day broke, my heart was full of joy 
unspeakable and full of glory." The results of this 
prayer we cannot omit. '' I then strove to make known 
to my fellow-men the blessedness of the Gospel I had 
received, I established a school, and, among other scholars, 
I had thirty married women, who taught their husbands 
at night what they had learned during the day. I had, 
however, but one spelling book and one Testament. 
My spelling book I took to pieces and gave a leaf to 
each scholar, my Bible was passed from hand to hand. 
Our progress was very slow, so I thought I would come 
to the country whence the Bibles came, to look out for 
help. And now, my dear friends, I have told my tale, 
and I want to ask you if you will give me some 
Bibles and spelling books to take back to my dear 
children." 

The response of the hall to this appeal was, " We will ! 
we will!" And soon afterwards, freighted with a large 
supply, the Indian went back to his own country, and 
lived and laboured for Christ. In "The Times'" obituary 
there subsequently appeared the following brief record of 
his death ; '"'■ Died, in North West America, (on such a 
day) Peter Jones, missionary and chief/^