[Poem by Felicia Dorothea Dorothea Hemans: 1793-1835]
THE breaking waves dash'd high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches toss'd;
And the heavy night hung dark,
The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moor'd their bark
On the wild New-England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame:
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear;–
They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang,
And the stars heard and the sea!
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the anthem of the free.
The ocean-eagle soar'd
From his nest by the white wave's foam;
And the rocking pines of the forest roar'd–
This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair,
Amidst that pilgrim band;–
Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?–
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod!
They have left unstain'd what there they found–
Freedom to worship God.
The First Thanksgiving: the Rest of the Story
If you're like most Americans, you weren't told the whole story about the first Thanksgiving. It's not the one that kids hear in government schools or in popularized US culture:God and His wonderful providence are left out. But here's what really happened:
In 1620, 102 Pilgrims, Separatists from the Church of England sailed west across the Atlantic aboard the cramped 100 ft. "Mayflower" in a voyage that if compared with today, would be like a voyage to the moon. For 66 days they lived in an ill-lit, close-quartered, rolling, pitching, stinking, over-heated "below-decks"; the hatches battened down, the smell of the bilge in their nostrils, and the crew hostile towards Separatists. Cloistered in a space the size of a volleyball court, 102 people with their spiritual leader William Bradford endured the unendurable. Why? Because they wanted to worship God without the onerous legalistic restrictions imposed on them by England. Ten years before, they had left England for Holland, and would've been content to live there except for the fact that their children were becoming like perfect little Dutch kids, and losing their cultural identity.
On the voyage over, just two people died. One was a crew member who repeatedly mocked the Pilgrims until one day he died and that silenced the rest of the crew for the rest of the voyage; and the other, because he refused orders to drink lemon juice and so died of scurvy. They were enroute to the mouth of the Hudson River in a huge swath of territory extending from Virginia to New England called the "Virginia Plantation", uninhabited by Europeans, in near-absolute wilderness, but claimed and peopled by hostile Indian tribes. If they had landed where they were supposed to land, they would've certainly been slaughtered. But they were blown off course by hundreds of miles and forced to land in a place known today as Massachusetts, and in a region where, unknown to them, no tribe lived because all tribes feared that the land was cursed by a great Spirit who had wiped out all the former Patuxet inhabitants. The Patuxets were feared by their neighbors as one of the most ferocious and savage of tribes, who had also killed every white settler and explorer they had ever met. In the spring of that year a single Patuxet named Squanto arrived in the Pilgrim camp and said in perfect English: "Welcome Englishmen. Do you have any beer?"
Squanto's entire Patuxet tribe had been wiped out by disease while he was a prisoner on a ship bound for England years ago. From the English he had been rescued by Spanish friars who taught him the rudiments of Christianity. Then he somehow managed to return to his homeland intending to rejoin his tribe. But when he returned and found them all dead, he wandered into the region of the Wampanoags, who were hated the Patuxets. Yet the Wampanoag chief Massasoit decided to spare Squanto's life and let him live among them. When Chief Massasoit was told by Squanto of the Pilgrims' arrival, he sent him back to them with a man named Samoset, one of his own braves, in order to find out more about them and how they dared live in a region cursed by a dread and unknown Spirit. When both Squanto and Samoset reported back to the Wampanoag chief what they had seen and heard, Massasoit decided to show mercy to the Pilgrims, likely because he feared that the great and unknown Spirit was protecting them. Chief Massasoit instructed Squanto to help the Pilgrims.
The Pilgrims knew next to nothing about survival in the American wilderness. They didn't know how to plant or hunt or fish, except from their experience in Europe. They would've likely starved to death, but Squanto taught them how to refine maple syrup, make popcorn, trap and trade in beaver pelts with surrounding tribes, fertilize the soil. In short, he taught them to become economically successful. At the end of their second year there, by order of their governor, William Bradford, a day of thanksgiving was proclaimed in the autumn, and Bradford invited Chief Massasoit to celebrate with them. When Massasoit came, he brought more than twice as many tribesmen with him as the remaining Pilgrims (some had died). But fortunately he brought his own food too. He arrived a day too early and stayed 3 days too late. He was the guest who wouldn't go home, and he enjoyed himself immensely. And so this day of thanksgiving was extended for 3 days more.
There were foot-races, games, shooting matches and sports, and the public giving of thanks to God, the Great Spirit that Massasoit so feared. And there they thanked God for Massasoit's kindness, too. And it was here that the Wampanoags heard the Gospel of Jesus Christ for the first time.
[from: The Light and the Glory: Did God Have a Plan for America? by David Marshall & Peter Manuel, Fleming Revel]
THE breaking waves dash'd high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches toss'd;
And the heavy night hung dark,
The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moor'd their bark
On the wild New-England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame:
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear;–
They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang,
And the stars heard and the sea!
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the anthem of the free.
The ocean-eagle soar'd
From his nest by the white wave's foam;
And the rocking pines of the forest roar'd–
This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair,
Amidst that pilgrim band;–
Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?–
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod!
They have left unstain'd what there they found–
Freedom to worship God.
The First Thanksgiving: the Rest of the Story
If you're like most Americans, you weren't told the whole story about the first Thanksgiving. It's not the one that kids hear in government schools or in popularized US culture:God and His wonderful providence are left out. But here's what really happened:
In 1620, 102 Pilgrims, Separatists from the Church of England sailed west across the Atlantic aboard the cramped 100 ft. "Mayflower" in a voyage that if compared with today, would be like a voyage to the moon. For 66 days they lived in an ill-lit, close-quartered, rolling, pitching, stinking, over-heated "below-decks"; the hatches battened down, the smell of the bilge in their nostrils, and the crew hostile towards Separatists. Cloistered in a space the size of a volleyball court, 102 people with their spiritual leader William Bradford endured the unendurable. Why? Because they wanted to worship God without the onerous legalistic restrictions imposed on them by England. Ten years before, they had left England for Holland, and would've been content to live there except for the fact that their children were becoming like perfect little Dutch kids, and losing their cultural identity.
On the voyage over, just two people died. One was a crew member who repeatedly mocked the Pilgrims until one day he died and that silenced the rest of the crew for the rest of the voyage; and the other, because he refused orders to drink lemon juice and so died of scurvy. They were enroute to the mouth of the Hudson River in a huge swath of territory extending from Virginia to New England called the "Virginia Plantation", uninhabited by Europeans, in near-absolute wilderness, but claimed and peopled by hostile Indian tribes. If they had landed where they were supposed to land, they would've certainly been slaughtered. But they were blown off course by hundreds of miles and forced to land in a place known today as Massachusetts, and in a region where, unknown to them, no tribe lived because all tribes feared that the land was cursed by a great Spirit who had wiped out all the former Patuxet inhabitants. The Patuxets were feared by their neighbors as one of the most ferocious and savage of tribes, who had also killed every white settler and explorer they had ever met. In the spring of that year a single Patuxet named Squanto arrived in the Pilgrim camp and said in perfect English: "Welcome Englishmen. Do you have any beer?"
Squanto's entire Patuxet tribe had been wiped out by disease while he was a prisoner on a ship bound for England years ago. From the English he had been rescued by Spanish friars who taught him the rudiments of Christianity. Then he somehow managed to return to his homeland intending to rejoin his tribe. But when he returned and found them all dead, he wandered into the region of the Wampanoags, who were hated the Patuxets. Yet the Wampanoag chief Massasoit decided to spare Squanto's life and let him live among them. When Chief Massasoit was told by Squanto of the Pilgrims' arrival, he sent him back to them with a man named Samoset, one of his own braves, in order to find out more about them and how they dared live in a region cursed by a dread and unknown Spirit. When both Squanto and Samoset reported back to the Wampanoag chief what they had seen and heard, Massasoit decided to show mercy to the Pilgrims, likely because he feared that the great and unknown Spirit was protecting them. Chief Massasoit instructed Squanto to help the Pilgrims.
The Pilgrims knew next to nothing about survival in the American wilderness. They didn't know how to plant or hunt or fish, except from their experience in Europe. They would've likely starved to death, but Squanto taught them how to refine maple syrup, make popcorn, trap and trade in beaver pelts with surrounding tribes, fertilize the soil. In short, he taught them to become economically successful. At the end of their second year there, by order of their governor, William Bradford, a day of thanksgiving was proclaimed in the autumn, and Bradford invited Chief Massasoit to celebrate with them. When Massasoit came, he brought more than twice as many tribesmen with him as the remaining Pilgrims (some had died). But fortunately he brought his own food too. He arrived a day too early and stayed 3 days too late. He was the guest who wouldn't go home, and he enjoyed himself immensely. And so this day of thanksgiving was extended for 3 days more.
There were foot-races, games, shooting matches and sports, and the public giving of thanks to God, the Great Spirit that Massasoit so feared. And there they thanked God for Massasoit's kindness, too. And it was here that the Wampanoags heard the Gospel of Jesus Christ for the first time.
[from: The Light and the Glory: Did God Have a Plan for America? by David Marshall & Peter Manuel, Fleming Revel]
