Sitting (Spirit) - Sitting Bull's message from spirit life

This book made available by the Internet Archive.

NOTE.

" And I heard a voice, saying: ' Write what the Spirit saith unto the people.'" We have written; and now send the message forth on its mission. In doing so we are well aware that its authenticity as a communication from Sitting Bull will doubtless be questioned by two classes of people.

The first to question it will probably be those who declare that there is no possibility of communication between the so-called, " two worlds;" and that, therefore, there is no such thing as modern inspiration.

Another class of critics will be found among those, who, while they concede the fact of spiritual inspiration, will say "Sitting Bull was not a poet, and hence would not have put his message into rhyme."

In reply to the first class of objectors to the claim of the Spirit, we shall simply state that we know that we are in daily communication with those who have " shufiied off the mortal coil," and that we often come under the inspiration of their loving thoughts.

To those who may say that the Spirit could not have dictated a rythmical communication, we answer : How know you that Sitting Bull was not a poet ? True, he may never have written or spoken

his thought in rhyme; yet the Indian's prose expressions are often full of the sublimest poetry.

Sitting Bull was aided in the dictation of his message by a spirit poet, who was ever a champion of human rights, and who, while in the physical form, often wielded his pen in behalf of the oppressed Indian nation.

We are told that there are two reasons why the message of the Spirit has been sent forth in this rythmical garb; one of which is that the Spirit who assisted Sitting Bull felt that it might prove more attractive, and make a deeper impression upon the minds of those who peruse it.

We are also told, that, our own nature being somewhat poetic, our brain more readily responds to rythmical measure, and hence the thoughts given by Sitting Bull could be more easily impressed when clothed in this manner.

That some good may follow from the publication of this communication, is the sincere hope of Sitting Bull's humble, yet willing scribe,

Kate R. Stiles.

'A

43 Dwight Street, Boston.

SITTING BULL'S MESSAGE.

Sitting Bull, the Chief, returneth.

Though a Spirit, he still yearneth

Over his beloved nation,

Still he feeleth obligation

Toward the Indian tribes and races;

Therefore he unto pale faces

Cometh, with strong words of pleading.

Through another interceding

For his hapless, hopeless brothers.

For the poor, dejected mothers

Who sit daily moaning, crying,

With their children round them dying.

Though his message he conveyeth

Through another, yet he prayeth

That the people who peruse it

Will not scoff at, or abuse it,

Will not say there is no merit

In the message of a Spirit

Through another brain transmitted.

The Great Father hath permitted

Those who pass beyond Death's portals

To approach their fellow mortals

And make known to them their feeling.

Thus comes Sitting Bull appealing,

Sending forth his supplication

To the chief men of the nation,

To the great men in high places,

That the Indian tribes and races

Be accorded fairer dealing,

This he asks with kindly feeling.

He for justice only, pleadeth,

That the bread his people needeth

To sustain them from starvation

Be supplied them by the nation.

From their lands have they been driven,

And with faces shrunken, shriven.

Have they wandered forth, unsightly,

Wandered daily, wandered nightly.

Vainly seeking for protection.

Oh ! the sadness, the dejection

Of a race thus doomed to wander.

Sitting Bull long years did ponder

O'er the direful situation.

Oft he sat in contemplation,

Through the long night watches, lonely.

SITTING BULL S MESSAGE.

In his heart was one thought only, How to hft the Indian nation, From their woe and degradation. He for Ught was ever calHng; Yet the darkness, so appalling. Sent him back no answer'ng token. All unrifted, all unbroken. Did the heavy cloud hang o'er him. Walk beside him, move before him. Heavy was his heart with groaning. Sore became his breast from moaning. Sore and weary with his sighing. When he saw his people dying For the bread from them withholden. It did all his thought embolden. And within him woke the spirit That the red man doth inherit From his fathers gone before him. Yea, it seemed they did bend o'er him, And did whisper their monition Urged him to demand rendition Of the lands and bread belonging To his people round him thronging. This he sought, through arbitration. To accomplish for his nation. But the Government, unheeding.

Listened not unto his pleading;

Or, while listening, failed in action,

And he gained no satisfaction.

What remained then, O pale faces,

For the Indian tribes and races,

But to seek revenge in battle

In its dreadful din and rattle?

Sitting Bull to white man sayeth,

Wonder not the red man slayeth

When he sees his people stricken.

Sees his sons and daughters sicken.

Sees them fainting, falling, dying,

For the bread he is denying.

Long the red man's blood had bounded

With injustice, ere he sounded

War's dread tocsin. Had white nation

But fulfilled its obligation.

Made for red man intervention.

There had been no dark contention.

With the white man lies the error

Of the turmoil and the terror

That hath siezed upon the nation.

With him rests the obligation.

Will the lesson sore be heeded ?

And will justice be conceded

To the Indian tribes and races

SITTING BULL S MESSAGE.

By their brothers, the pale faces ? Or will they by deeds unholy Still oppress the red man, lowly? Will he still be driven, driven, Naked, hungry, shrunken, shriven? Will the white man still pursue him. Taking what belongeth to him. Leaving him in destitution ? Then, O pale face, restitution Must you make for wrongs committed,-Justice ne'er can be outwitted. Man may plot and rob his brother. But in one sphere or another He the " utmost farthing " payeth. This the law of Justice sayeth. This the white man's Bible teacheth, From this text he often preacheth. Sitting Bull oft heard it quoted, But its spirit had not noted. He but listened to the letter, White man doeth no whit better. He, too, listens to the reading. But gives to it little heeding. Speaketh Sitting Bull too boldly? Yet not bitterly, or coldly, He the word of truth declareth.