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BAY OF HIDO

’Tis he—the Pastor of the numerous flock,

Who wait his coming under yonder rock;

Where (far from mild Religion ’s soothing ray)

Pale superstition late held direful sway :

But now—mysterious words—He speaks of Heaven,Of Mercy—Hope—and Love—of sins forgiven :

He speaks of HIM, omnipotent to save,

Who died—who lives triumphant o’er the grave—■E’en now the savage, with unlifted eyes,

Drinks the sweet words, “ Christ is our sacrifice.”

No more (for past omissions to atone,)

He bows to forms of wood or gods of stone ;

But beads the knee, and humbly hopes to traceSome glorious tidings of redeeming grace :

While gently stealing o’er the twilight dim,

Falls the soft cadence of the Evening Hymn.

Now all is peace. Each sound has died away ;

The savage seeks his couch—till break of dayAgain shall summon him, his vows to pay.

O blest seclusion! Solicitude how blest!

Yes—soon on Mounakea’s shaggy breast,

(Unless I idly dream) a Fane shall rise

To Him, the great Tkibne, who rules the earth and skies.

The whole is creditable to the writer, as an impromptu;and the latter part is a pleasing and lively picture of ourordinary evening worship with the natives.

Mission House, Hido, Monday, June 13. Yesterdaymorning, at the break of day, we were farther from theharbour of Waiakea than we had the evening beforeexpected to be; and Lord Byron gave orders to standoff the land till the usual worship of the Sabbath wasperformed. The whole crew, in clean dresses, occupied