Phenix Gazette

From the Detroit Courier.

To a person who is not acquainted with the religious devotion of the Indians, when in their native wildness, it may be difficult to convey an accurate idea of the solemn and devout feeling with which, when converted to Christianity, they enter into all its duties and requirements. It is well known that a tract of land, embracing about four thousand square acres, lying on the river Huron, a few miles above its confluence with the Detroit, has been reserved for the use of such of the Wyandot tribe as choose to cultivate and improve it. There is now quite a number of families located on the different parts of the reservation for a mile or more up and down the river. They live in good comfortable huts; and some of them have excellent farms. Among them are the half breeds, and some of them have intermarried with Shawnees. Most of these Indians have become devoted Christians, and upwards of thirty belong to the Methodist Episcopal Church.

On the 18th, the quarterly meeting of that sect took place on the reservation, among the Indians. On Sunday a sermon was preached to them through an interpreter, and the sacrament administered. To say the occasion was interesting, would be insipid; a more touching, heavenly, sublime scene never was witnessed. It was enough to convert the heart of an Atheist. The intense interest with which the poor Indians listened to the outpourings of the preacher, as he pictured to them the loveliness of the Saviour, and his power to redeem, indicated the warmth of devotion that existed in their bosoms. And when one of their tribe, a native Wyandot, knelt upon the rough floor of their forest sanctuary, and poured out his whole soul to the Great Spirit who had revealed to them the way of salvation, scarcely a dry eye was to be found in the house. It was an indescribable scene. Although in Indian, the effect upon the congregation was electric.

In the forest—in the sanctuary built for the occasion by the young Christian chief of the tribe—with thirty of the Indians on their knees, humbly offering up their devotions to the great and good Being whose holy book had not been made known to their fathers—breathing out their fervent aspirations for the conversion of their brothers and sisters, their wives and daughters, who yet bow to Manitto of the woods, and dance round the council fire of the nation—and then the devout appearance of their white brethren who had come up to the sanctuary to blend their praises with those of the red man—this was a scene which must be witnessed to be felt and appreciated.

A hymn in their own language was then sung, after which these sincere converts knelt again in humble adoration at the throne of grace, and with united hearts called fervently on the name of their Saviour.

Here was an exhibition of pure religion—here might be distinctly seen the footsteps of the Redeemer, and the wonder workings of his Holy Spirit. Who could contemplate such a scene without strong emotion? And who could turn from it but with a grateful tribute to Him who moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform!