I speak for each no-tongued tree
That, spring by spring, doth nobler be,
And dumbly and most wistfully
His mighty prayerful arms outspreads,
And his big blessing downward sheds.
But there's a dome of nobler span,
A temple given
Thy faith, that bigots dare not ban—
Its space is heaven!
It's roof star-pictured Nature's ceiling,
Where, trancing the rapt spirit's feeling,
And God Himself to man revealing,
The harmonious spheres
Make music, though unheard their pealing
By mortal ears!
God! sing ye meadow streams with gladsome voice!
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm!
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!
Ye signs and wonders of the elements,
Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise! . . .
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises GOD!
"WE also have a religion which was given to our forefathers, and has been handed down to us their
children. It teaches us to be thankful, to be united, and to love one another! We never quarrel
Thus spoke the great Seneca orator, Red Jacket, in his superb reply to Missionary Cram more than a
century ago, and I have often heard the same thought expressed by my countrymen.
I have attempted to paint the religious life of the typical American Indian as it was before he knew
the white man. I have long wished to do this, because I cannot find that it has ever been seriously,
adequately, and sincerely done. The religion of the Indian is the last thing about him that the man
of another race will ever understand.
First, the Indian does not speak of these deep matters so long as he believes in them, and when he
has ceased to believe he speaks inaccurately and slightingly.
Second, even if he can be induced to speak, the racial and religious prejudice of the other stands
in the way of his sympathetic comprehension.
Third, practically all existing studies on this subject have been made during the transition period,
when the original beliefs and philosophy of the native American were already undergoing rapid
There are to be found here and there superficial accounts of strange customs and ceremonies, of
which the symbolism or inner meaning was largely hidden from the observer; and there has been a
great deal of material collected in recent years which is without value because it is modern and
hybrid, inextricably mixed with Biblical legend and Caucasian philosophy. Some of it has even been
invented for commercial purposes. Give a reservation Indian a present, and he will possibly provide
you with sacred songs, a mythology, and folklore to order!
My little book does not pretend to be a scientific treatise. It is as true as I can make it to my
childhood teaching and ancestral ideals, but from the human, not the ethnological standpoint. I have
not cared to pile up more dry bones, but to clothe them with flesh and blood. So much as has been
written by strangers of our ancient faith and worship treats it chiefly as matter of curiosity. I
should like to emphasize its universal quality, its personal appeal!
The first missionaries, good men imbued with the narrowness of their age, branded us as pagans and
devil-worshipers, and demanded of us that we abjure our false gods before bowing the knee at their
sacred altar. They even told us that we were eternally lost, unless we adopted a tangible symbol and
professed a particular form of their hydra-headed faith.
We of the twentieth century know better! We know that all religious aspiration, all sincere worship,
can have but one source and one goal. We know that the God of the lettered and the unlettered, of
the Greek and the barbarian, is after all the same God; and, like Peter, we perceive that He is no
respecter of persons, but that in every nation he that feareth Him and worketh righteousness is
acceptable to Him.
CHARLES A. EASTMAN (OHIYESA)
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