Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE BURMANS AND THEIR MISSION, by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: There is a cry in burmah, and a rush Last Line: Rising to bear the embassy of heaven. Subject(s): Burma; Missions & Missionaries | ||||||||
"Are you Jesus Christ's man? Give us a writing that tells about Jesus Christ." -- LETTER OF REV. DR. JUDSON. THERE is a cry in Burmah, and a rush Of thousand footsteps from the distant bound Of watery Siam, and the rich Cathay. From the far northern frontier, pilgrims meet The central dwellers in the forest-shades, And on they press together. Eager hope Sits in their eye, and on their lips the warmth Of strong request. Is it for bread they seek, Like the dense multitude, which, fainting, hung Upon the Saviour's words, till the third day Closed in, and left them hungering? Not for food Or raiment ask they. Simply girding on The scanty garment o'er the weary limb, They pass unmarked, the lofty domes of wealth Inquiring for a stranger. There he stands; The mark of foreign climes is on his brow; He hath no power, no costly gifts to deal Among the people, and his lore perchance The earth-bowed worldling with his scales of gold, Accounteth folly. Yet to him is raised Each straining eye-ball, "Tell us of the Christ!" And like the far-off murmur of the sea Lashed by the tempest, swells their blended tone, "Yea. Tell us of the Christ. Give us a scroll Bearing his name." And there the teacher stood, Far from his native land -- amid the graves Of his lost infants, and of her he loved More than his life. -- Yes, there he stood alone, And with a simple, saint-like eloquence Spake his Redeemer's word. Forgot were all -- Home, boyhood, christian-fellowship -- the tone Of his sweet babes -- his partner's dying strife -- Chains, perils, Burman dungeons, all forgot, Save the deep danger of the heathen's soul, And God's salvation. And methought that earth In all she vaunts of majesty, or tricks With silk and purple, or the baubled pride Of throne and sceptre, or the blood-red pomp, Of the stern hero, had not aught to boast So truly great, so touching, so sublime, As that lone Missionary, shaking off All links and films and trappings of the world, And in his chastened nakedness of soul Rising to bear the embassy of Heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ENGLISH GRAVEYARD IN MALACCA by KAREN SWENSON THE FOREIGN VOLUNTEERS AT MOTHER TERESA'S by KAREN SWENSON EPITAPH ON HENRY MARTYN by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY THE CAPTURE OF LUCKNOW by WILLIAM MCGONAGALL FATHER LUCIEN GALTIER by HELEN LETHERT MEIER MORAVIAN MISSIONS by JAMES MONTGOMERY THE GENESIS OF A MISSIONARY by FREDERICK WILLIAM HENRY MYERS COLUMBUS [JANUARY, 1487] by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY |
|