This is splendour enough for his untutor'd soul. He loves not the pomp of cities. He loves better to stand on the cliff, where the cloud rests, and gaze upon the troubled ocean, while the voice of its storms dies beneath his feet. He loves to feel himself to be but as a drop in its bosom, swallowed up in the vast and awful creation. Ye say that your Jehovah is a God of wisdom. Will he then carry to one place souls, which like contending elements, can have no communion? Would he kindle war in Heaven if he be a Spirit of love?"
Mr. Occom, raised his eyes upwards, as if they uttered "Thy light alone, is able to dissolve this darkness!" Preparing to depart, he approached the Lady, and said,—
"I could not leave this part of the country, Madam, without saying to you, that your bounty, and that of your deceased partner can never be forgotten, either by the natives who go, or by those who remain behind. In their prayers, they will commend you to that God whom in truth you worship. My people were hungry, and you have given them bread. Naked, and you clothed them. Sick, and you visited them. Lady! I seek not to praise man, but God, who hath breathed goodness into his heart. Yet there is written a book of remembrance, and the righteous need not shrink from it in the day of scrutiny, for the traces of errour, over which Repentance weeps, shall be blotted out in the blood of Calvary. Farewell, blessed Lady! When, before the throne of mercy, you remember the sorrowful, let the outcast Indian share in your petitions."
