The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 3.
John Greenleaf Whittier, Ed.

last week–the Lord be praised for all His mercies
To His unworthy servant!—I arrived
Safe at the Mission, via Westport; where
I tarried over night, to aid in forming
A Vigilance Committee, to send back,
In shirts of tar, and feather-doublets quilted
With forty stripes save one, all Yankee comers,
Uncircumcised and Gentile, aliens from
The Commonwealth of Israel, who despise
The prize of the high calling of the saints,
Who plant amidst this heathen wilderness
Pure gospel institutions, sanctified
By patriarchal use. The meeting opened
With prayer, as was most fitting. Half an hour,
Or there away, I groaned, and strove, and wrestled,
As Jacob did at Penuel, till the power
Fell on the people, and they cried “ Amen!”
“Glory to God!” and stamped and clapped their hands;
And the rough river boatmen wiped their eyes;
‘Go it, old hoss!’ they cried, and cursed the niggers—
Fulfilling thus the word of prophecy,
‘Cursed be Cannan.’ After prayer, the meeting
Chose a committee—good and pious men—