Шарлотта Элиза Диксон (Charlotte Eliza Dixon)

To G. C. Smith

GO on, thou great Apostle of the Waters,
Fill up the measure of thy useful days;
Stem the rough billows that oppose thy course,
Rude hurricanes to wreck thy stately bark,
Riding sublime o'er many a swelling surge;
Spread the broad sail of Faith to meet each blast,
Lashing and blust'ring round thy gallant prow,
Foaming out fury, bellowing in their rage,
To mark thy steady, dauntless, onward bound,
'Midst the distracting strife of confluent storms.
Majestic vessel! onward, onward still,
Reck not the deafening din of roaring winds,
Rushing athwart, or following in thy track,
Boiling with vengeance. Onward, onward still!
There is a gale that bears thee o'er the waves,
Gentle and soft, amid the rougher blasts,
Like the "still voice" that struck Elijah's ear,
Which dwelt not in the whirlwind, or the fire;
A breeze set fair from the bland port of peace,
A balmy zephyr, from the spicy breath
Of those sweet austral "treasures" which refresh
The drooping, fainting "plants" our GOD'S right hand
Placed in th' enclosed garden. Onward still,
Intrepid man! Bound onward to thy task,
Despis'd, derided, envied, hated, lov'd,
Lov'd by the few who love the Son of Man;
Tho' constituting thousands, still the few,
Compar'd with such as fill the scorner's chair.
I would not be the one that hated thee,
For all this world could place within my grasp.
If love to saints be held as evidence
Of having pass'd from death to endless life,
I hold the evidence within my heart,
For well I love thee, brother! All my soul
Is knit to thine in holy Christian bonds,
As Jonathan's was link'd to Jesse's son!
And oh! what burning, all-enduring love
Links thee for ever to the righteous Branch,
That shot from Jesse's Stem! Resplendent King,
Crown'd in his peerless beauty, in that land,
That distant land to which thou hastenest,
Where thou shalt surely see Him, when thy work,
Thy mighty work upon our earth is done!
Nor yet alone shalt thou behold Him there--
A multitude will follow in thy train,
Thy joy and crown, potent ambassador!
Sons of the deep, pluck'd from th' usurper's power,
Daughters of loathsome misery and sin!
Onward! oh, onward in thy glorious work!
Pend high the Bethel flag above the main,
Let the Lamb undulate upon the breeze
That fans its broad expanse, nor there confine
The floating banner, let the firmer ground
Poise the blest ensign, fill the open air,
Lift up thy voice 'mid circumambient space,
Inflate it with the lovely name of CHRIST,
Till echo wafts it round the sea-girt land.
Laborious servant of the living GOD,
Heed not the idlers that obstruct thy path,
Feel not the wounds that foes, or fickle friends,
Inflict upon thee; tho' thy tortur'd heart
Recoil to meet the unkindest stab of all!
The LORD thou serv'st, the Man of many griefs,
Writh'd 'neath the wounds of friends! The one denied,
The other sold Him to his ruthless foes!
In perils by false brethren, pass'd his days,
And so are passing thine! On, onward still,
The glorious end in view! Great man of GOD,
Apostle of the watery world, press on.

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