THE CHURCH AT JULIANASHAAB.
The day following our return from Krakortok being Sunday, I gladly
availed myself of Mr. Anthon’s invitation to attend service at his
little church.
Julianashaab is not at any time a particularly lively place, but
there is sufficient activity during six days of the week to make the
silence of the seventh very marked. Solemnly silent it was to me,
as I landed on the beach, and then, beside the stream which flows
through the town, made my way towards the temple dedicated to God
among the majestic hills. The people, savage and civilized alike, had
rested from their labors—the fishermen from their lines and nets; the
hunters from their search after game in the valleys; the sound of
the cooper’s hammer, and the ring of the blacksmith’s anvil were no
longer heard; even the voices of the inhabitants seemed to be hushed,
as if awed by the presence of that divinely ordained day which, it is
commanded, shall be remembered and kept holy.
It was delightfully calm; the sun gave a pleasant autumnal warmth to
the atmosphere; and altogether it was one of those peaceful Sunday
mornings which one enjoys so much at home in the country, when the
mind instinctively dwells upon the wonders of nature, and the very
soul goes out to the great universal Father whose dwelling-place is
everywhere, and whose presence is nowhere felt more strongly than
amidst the solemn grandeur of the cloud-piercing hills.
As I approached the church, the only sounds that greeted me were
those made by the tumbling waters of the brook until I came very
near, when the sweet music of an organ rose above the voice of the
glad stream. It was a most agreeable surprise; for I had hardly
expected to find here in Greenland any such artificial means of
inspiring religious feeling. How far this circumstance may have had
an influence with me I can not say; but certain it is, I would not
exchange the memory of the notes of that little organ of the small
Julianashaab church, as I first caught them there on that peaceful
Sunday morning in that Greenland dell, for those of any other
church-organ that I ever heard. Afterwards, when I had taken my seat
among the congregation, the effect was not the less pleasing as I
listened to the voices of the choir, and reflected that they were
the voices of God’s children, who, through the instrumentality of
Christian love, had been reclaimed from barbarism.
As sometimes happens elsewhere, a large majority of the worshippers
were women. They generally appeared to be inspired with a devout
feeling, which even the presence of strangers could not disturb, and
they sang the hymns in a manner peculiarly agreeable.
The Esquimaux language is by no means lacking in euphonious sounds,
and, as pronounced by a native, is often music itself. Mr. Anthon
had caught the accent and pronunciation perfectly, and the entire
service, sermon included, was in the common tongue—a language
peculiar to the Esquimaux, and the same with all the tribes.
The organ of the little church is of the quaint device of a hundred
years ago, having been presented to the mission by Queen Juliana, in
recognition of the compliment paid her by the naming of the town. A
native played it with reasonable skill, and the catechist led the
singing, in which the entire congregation joined with a good voice.
I have never seen a congregation pay closer attention to their pastor
than these rude people paid to Mr. Anthon. They seemed eager for
instruction, and drank in his every word. The sermon was well adapted
to the minds of a people exposed to the dangers of the sea, as they
are continually. As I sat looking at their upturned faces, I could
not but reflect upon the great change that had come over the people
who subdued the Northmen. Then they were steeped in the worst form of
barbarous superstition. Earth, sea, and air were peopled with horrid
spirits; now the love of Christ rules in every heart, and they are
all, without exception, converts to the Christian faith.
As a specimen of their language, I quote a stanza from one of the
hymns sung (with a literal translation appended), which no doubt my
readers will find no difficulty in singing for themselves.
Aut nellekangitsok, That blood, that inestimable,
Pirsaunekangarpok, Hath a very great power;
Kuttingub attausingut, A single drop,
Innuit nunametut, The men that are upon earth,
Annau-sinna-kullugit That it has power to redeem them
Kringarsairsub karnanit. From the cruel hater’s jaws.
Another, which was an exhortation to all men to come to Jesus, began
thus:
“Krikiektorsimarsok
Jesuse innulerkipok.”
The services ended, I went with Mr. Anthon to the parsonage, and
passed the greater part of the day with his agreeable family. The
pastor himself has devoted much attention to gathering the traditions
and legends of the people, and in his recital of them I found much
entertainment.