But to one passenger, at least, the best and sweetest ministrations of all were the religious services. Bishop Potter took part in all wholesome amusements. He was often the director; he was the delightful chairman at all our musical and literary sessions; but it was in sacred service that his noble spiritual powers found expression. One calm, radiant Sunday morning he spoke with noblest eloquence on these words of the one hundred thirty-ninth psalm:—
Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
If I ascend up into heaven thou art there; if I make my bed in hell, behold thou art there!
If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost part of the sea;
Even there shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall hold me.
Fifteen months later, when wrecked on the coast of Panay, his clear voice again sounded in my soul with the assurance, “Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.”
First Glimpses of Japan.
Chapter Two.
But for all our devices to while away the time, the thirty-two days of ship life was to all of us the longest month of our lives. The Pacific, as Mr. Peggotty says, is “a mort of water,” a vast, desolate waste of waters from Honolulu to our first landing place, Yokohama. We had a wonderful glimpse of the sacred mountain, Fujiyama. The snow-capped peak stood transfigured as it caught full the rays of the descending sun. Cone-shaped, triangular, perhaps; what was it like, this gleaming silhouette against the deep blue sky? Was it a mighty altar, symbol of earth’s need of sacrifice, or emblem of the unity of the ever present triune God? ’Tis little wonder that it is, to the people over whom it stands guard, an object of reverence, of worship; that pilgrimages are made to its sacred heights; that yearly many lives are sacrificed in the toilsome ascent on bare feet, on bare knees.