A spirit of utter self-forgetfulness marked the lad. Through storm and sunshine he plodded on, daring dangers innumerable, and facing death in many forms. He was tireless in laboring for the salvation of his people, going from band to band, and seizing every opportunity to preach unto them Jesus. Hundreds were impressed by his fervent words, his native eloquence, and his pure and Christlike spirit, and were led to give themselves to God.
David became of great value also in interpreting for the missionaries who might not know the language of the Indians. He was for a time a class-leader at Skowkale, in the Chilliwack Valley, and he had another class at the head of Sumas Lake, twenty miles away, and a third class at Squi-a-la camp, which were the blessed fruit of one of the camp-meetings. Probably it was in his work through this valley that David contracted the cold which was destined to end his earthly career. It was often necessary for him to swim rivers and ford creeks and sloughs and rushing torrents, in order to carry the glad tidings of salvation to his benighted brethren. Once on such a journey he nearly lost his life. He was miles away from any dwelling, and was attempting to cross a slough at the head of Sumas Lake. The ice, being weak, gave way, and down he went.
He says, in telling of his mishap: “I plunged and broke the ice again and again as I tried to climb out upon it. The water was so cold that I was becoming chilled and weak, and I thought, ‘Now, David go to heaven, and nobody will know where David has gone’; so I got my Bible with my name in it, and threw it right up on the shore, so that I think when somebody find it they will say, ‘Oh, David has gone to heaven on the lake’; but just then, while among the breaking ice, my feet caught on a sand-bar, and by this means I struggled to the shore. I found my Bible, and went on my way rejoicing again to be allowed to preach to my people.” Who will say that Providence did not interfere to save one so useful and so devoted to the cause of Christ?
David’s preaching was very earnest, very forceful and original, and full of illustrations from nature. One of his sermons was called his “Steamboat Whistle Sermon.” We had the pleasure of hearing this wonderful sermon at one of the Chilliwack camp-meetings, which he delivered in his broken English to a crowd of white people gathered at the meeting, and which we doubt not was the means of leading some to the Saviour.
A great number of white people and Indians had gathered at the camp-meeting. An English service was first held, followed by a service for the Indians. Amos Cushan, the old local preacher, who was a friend of David’s, had preached to them his famous sermon on the judgment, when, in response to his invitation, the whole congregation rushed forward to the rude altar of prayer, and then scores of people with one voice sent up their cries and petitions to heaven for salvation. After a season of prayer and wonderful blessing a change was made in the exercises. By this time crowds of white people were standing round the camp and at the doors of their tents, looking on with amazement, and many of them with their eyes filled with tears at seeing so many of the red men anxious for pardon. David, seeing them, seized the opportunity to preach, and springing to his feet he began in his broken English a marvellous and soul-stirring address to them:
“My dear white friends,” said he, “you look at our Indian people here, you hear them cry very much, and you say, ‘What they make all that noise for, what make them feel so bad?’ Well, I tell you. My dear people just heard about Jesus now, and they all want to find Him and love Him. You heard long time ago, some of you; you find Jesus long time; you love Him. It all same as steamboat on this river.” (The camp was on the banks of the old Fraser, and many had come by steamer.) “When she going to start she whistle one whistle, then she whistle another, and if you don’t get your things very quick and run, she whistles last time” (boats whistle three times before leaving), “and she go off and leave you behind, and you very sorry because you too late. Now Jesus like that. He whistle, He call. He whistle and whistle, and if you don’t get on board Jesus’ salvation ship, you too late. I think some my people get on board before some of you, because they not afraid to repent and come on board. Now, my white friends, you hurry up, have all your things packed up, be quick and get on board or you be too late. I think some of this poor Indian people go into heaven and you left out. Oh, come on board quick, come on board, come to Jesus now! This a very good ship, room for all you people, and Indian people too, black and white; come now, all come.”
No one could help being moved at the speaker’s strong, earnest appeal, a message from a heart burning with love for souls. Oh, how anxious he seemed; how he pleaded for the people to come to Jesus; how he sought to show them the need of doing so, and of doing it right then.
We looked around when he had finished and saw a number of the most hardened sinners in tears and broken down by the earnest, loving, living message of the young Indian preacher. Who can measure the results of that strong and sympathetic appeal? Never can it fade from my memory or its effect be effaced from the heart. We feel that the Great Shepherd alone can tell how many of His sheep were found by the call given in that “Steamboat Whistle Sermon” by His young servant on the old camp-ground on the banks of the Fraser. One man was saved that day who became well known as a faithful worker among the Indians in after days. This was old Captain Tsit-see-mit-ston, who lived at the head of Sumas Lake.
David knew nothing of fear in the prosecution of his work for the Master. Many a time, in the midst of circumstances most trying, would he declare his allegiance to Christ. Never was he ashamed of his Saviour, and his young heart was so full of love for Him that the influence was felt by all who came near to his warm and faithful life. Although his opportunities were few and his advantages limited, owing to a lack of an English education, he was a living demonstration of the fact that “God often chooses the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty.”
On one occasion he was accompanying me on a missionary trip which included a visit to a sick Indian who lived up the Chilliwack River. When we arrived at Skowkale, on the east bank of the river, a priest came to the opposite side. He seemed desirous of crossing the river (it was before the river had changed its course at Vedder Crossing), and as there was no bridge, and no canoe or boat on his side, he called to the Indians on our side to come over and fetch him. I told them to go for the man, but they said, “Oh, no, we don’t want that teacher any more.”