The work among the older people is of course more limited than that done in the schools. The age of study is with them past. The most intellectual work of which they are capable is learning to read the Bible; even this they cannot do in any other than the Dakota language. It is impossible to teach an old man English that will ever mean much to him. Our word "holy" could never mean what his own word "wakan" means; our word "God" could never take the place of his "Wakantanka." His brain would be so disturbed in his effort to learn and to comprehend our difficult language, that when he had mastered the words, were it possible, the sweet truth and the comfort would be all gone from him. Any but a scholar must read the Bible in his own language.
Thousands of Indians are learning Bible truths and are getting a little light in the few years left them. They are learning a little of the way of life, and receive the message with gladness. Spotted Bear, a Christian Indian, said at the recent convention at Santee: "All we know we have learned out of the Dakota Bible. Teach our children English, but don't take from them and us the means of reading our own Bible."
James Garvey, another Indian, said: "Many can soon learn to read the Dakota Bible; then they have a standard of morals and of interpretation; for to get the real meaning of the English Bible, we go to the Dakota. To make the best citizens you must Christianize the people, and to make them Christians you must give them the Bible in their own tongue. All of us have become white people through the gospel."
The little native churches of Dakota are most interesting illustrations of the work going on among the Indians. It would be impossible to find more attentive audiences. There is always an air of devotion, or of serious attention to all that pertains to the service, which we are not apt to find in our own churches. Men, women and children go; even the babies are always taken. There is a quiet freedom there which allows the Indian mothers to take the babies out and in again at any time, and the preacher is never disturbed. They sing as if they enjoyed singing—men and women together; and in fact the services are usually such as to give one a new zeal in holy things, even though we can understand few words.
Each Indian church has its missionary society, and its woman's society, which is also missionary. These have been working and giving for mission work further out among the Indians, and this year have pledged themselves to give to foreign missions. During the last year they have raised $1,084, of which the women raised $500. The prayer-meeting is as much an institution with them as with us—in fact, they live as we live and work as we work.
Ehnamani, pastor of the Santee church—a fine old man, whose history in connection with the Minnesota massacre of '62, and whose conversion and present work are well known—was once asked, "Do you ever have the least regret that the old life is gone—do you ever have any longing for the war and for the dance?" His face grew stern and hard as he answered, "Regret it! No, indeed! I cannot think of one good thing that I ever did in that life, and I cannot bear to remember it." Few are there yet like Ehnamani, though many are fast overtaking him, and a grand number of Christian workers would you see could they be gathered before you!
Many are the Indian hearts given back to God their Creator. Many are the Indian homes consecrated to the Wakantanka. Many are the Indian lives devoted to His service. And yet there are facts—there are overwhelming facts, sad enough to break the great, throbbing Christian heart of this country—facts that should make us cover our heads with shame.
Out of 40,000 Sioux Indians, there are 35,000 still in heathenism. There are sixty-six tribes on the Western prairies for whom nothing is yet done. There are 40,000 Indians of school age; but when every school is packed to its utmost only 12,000 can be accommodated. This includes Government schools, Roman Catholic schools, and all; so that those under mission teachers would be far less a number than 12,000.
And this is where the Indian work stands to-day. How can the A.M.A. do its share in this great work, or how can the work already begun be carried on, unless money is turned liberally into its treasury?
Shall the cry for help, coming 1,500 miles across the country, strike against a hard wall of indifference and be thrown back to mock the red man and to bid him wait yet longer?