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are now impatiently waiting to have the blessings of Christianity introduced among them. What shall be done? They have even been promised assistance, and promised so long, and so often, that they reproach the missionaries who have held out these encouraging prospects, as deficient in integrity.
The Christian world is indebted to oppressed Africa in proportion to the wrongs and cruelties they have inflicted upon her. To sate their avarice, she has been made to bleed at every pore. What millions have been carried away by the ships of all Christian nations to toil and groan and die in slavery !
Now let these nations send back the gospel, that this horrid traffic may be broken up, and that the wars and ravages it occasions may forever
Let Christians line our coasts, and stud our country with missionary stations.
These spiritual fortresses are the only means of restoring peace to our agitated tribes. The shouts of savage warfare would then die away, and the exulting notes of gratitude would break from the lips of more than one hundred millions of souls who are now ready to perish.
Much in the same strain, though varied by the circumstances of their respective countries, were the speeches of a Greenlander, a North American Indian, a coloured freeman of the West Indies, a native of Burmah, and a priest of Budha, from the island of Ceylon.
They all referred to the conquests of the gospel in their own countries, and urged the necessity of enlarging the scale of missionary operations
When the last of these speakers, who closed by briefly summing up all that had been said of the triumphs of the blessed Spirit in heathen lands, inquired whether in proportion to the means employed, an equal number had probably been converted in Christendom ; none appeared disposed to nod an affirmative reply.
A converted Devotee of India spoke with great pathos of his own personal history. He had wandered every where in quest of peace of mind, and found the object of his search only when he became acquainted with the Redeemer of men.
Before I knew the great truth that“ the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin," my mind was like a stormy night, my feelings were like the whirl of dark waters. I knew that something was wrong. My troubled conscience conjured up spectres of despair before me, but what was the cause of my misery, or whither to fly for relief, I could not ascertain.
My health was good - my external circumstances were favourable; but my heart was sick. I had no knowledge of the true God. Yet I knew that there were superior spirits, and I dreaded their wrath. Goaded by an undefined sense of guilt, I wandered hundreds and thousands of miles. I visited the sacred city, and the most holy shrine of my religion. I bathed in the purifying waters of the Ganges; but my soul found no relief. I resorted to every sacred place, and river, and temple, and shrine, and saint I could hear of, but the farther I wandered, the more insupportable did my burden become. The glorious sun poured a flood of radiance around me, and happy myriads exulted in his life-giving beams; but not one animating ray penetrated the gloom of my soul. The golden river rolled its bright waters beside me, and thousands exulted on its surface and in its refreshing wave; but no draught could revive my drooping spirits ; no flood drown the anguish
of my mind. I heard the songs of earth's happiest children. I listened to the strains of the richest music. I mingled with the gayest groups of the sons of pleasure ; but all in vain. My unstrung harp caught no responsive note.
I tried other expedients. I lived on the meanest fare. I fasted. I tortured my body until life was almost extinct. I expended all my property ; but my gloom deepened — my despair increased. And miserable beyond expression, and forever miserable should I have remained, had not that God whom I seemed to be feeling after, directed my weary steps to his own servants. I heard them speak - I read their books. Their words pierced my soul. I was held as in a spell. I began to see that there was a great God, and that I had sinned against him. My conscience became my accuser. Deeds of darkness and blood came up to my remembrance. My sense of guilt and danger was greater than ever. I inquired further. I heard of an Almighty Saviour - one who had died for sinners for sinners of all nations -- for the " chief of sinners." I perceived that this was the very Saviour I needed. I fell at his feet; I cast my wretched soul upon His mercy, and can I ever forget the heaven of that hour? My oppressive load of guilt-every fear of death --- all the gloomy forebodings of the future, fled away. The
sun had arisen upon me, and my long night was ended. Now I am happy. My God and Sa. viour is mine, and his word assures me, and my conscience confirms it, that “all things are mine." But my happiness is not complete. True, I have met many since my own deliverance who have embraced the same gracious Redeemer, but these bear no comparison with the number who are yet in the gall of bitterness.
I mourn to think that my country belongs to the region of death — the dominions of the devil. I now recall what I have witnessed in my extensive and fruitless pilgrimages. What crowds I have seen suffering every torture, which superstition can invent, or humanity endure. And how much greater still is the number of those who revel in every criminal indulgence.
None can conceive the demoralizing effects of the pagan systems of my country. What I know I would not dare disclose - I blush to remember. The priesthood are like so many evil spirits let loose upon the world.
Our detestable religion sanctions every crime, and our most renowned men commit them. Upon our altars of impurity and blood, multitudes of precious souls are yearly sacrificed.
At the close, he dwelt on the favourable state of the country for missionary efforts, and entreated