The glimmer lighted up a face,
And o'er a figure dartled,
So eerie, of so solemn grace,
The bluff backwoodsman startled.
The brow was gathered to a frown,
The eyes were strangely glowing,
And, like a snow-fall drifting down,
The stormy beard went flowing.
The tattered cloak that round him clung
Had warred with foulest weather;
Across his shoulders broad were flung
Brown saddlebags of leather.
One pouch with hoarded seed was packed,
From Penn-land cider-presses;
The other garnered book and tract
Within its creased recesses.
A glance disdainful and austere,
Contemptuous of danger,
Cast he upon the pioneer,
Then spake the uncouth stranger:
"Heed what the Lord's anointed saith;
Hear one who would deliver
Your bodies and your souls from death;
List ye to John the Giver.
"Thou trustful boy, in spirit wise
Beyond thy father's measure,
Because of thy believing eyes
I share with thee my treasure.
"Of precious seed this handful take;
Take next this Bible Holy:
In good soil sow both gifts, for sake
Of Him, the meek and lowly.
"Farewell! I go!—the forest calls
My life to ceaseless labors;
Wherever danger's shadow falls
I fly to save my neighbors.
"I save; I neither curse nor slay;
I am a voice that crieth
In night and wilderness. Away!
Whoever doubteth, dieth!"