The Ballad of René Goupil

Born in the valleys of old Angers,
He heard a call that was clear and strong,
But the silence grew in his youthful ears,
And the Jesuit cloister was not his home.
With a healer’s hand and a surgeon’s blade,
He crossed the sea where the wild winds blow,
To the forests deep of New France he came,
Through the trackless pines and the blinding snow.
(Verse 2)
In Quebec’s grey walls for two long years,
He bound the wounds of the rich and poor,
Till the summer heat of forty-two,
Called his wandering steps to a distant shore.
With Father Jogues in a birch canoe,
They paddled hard on the river wide,
To bring the Word to the Huron tribes,
With the grace of heaven to be their guide.
(Chorus)
Oh, sing of René, the surgeon brave,
Who walked the path that the martyrs trod,
In the quiet woods by the Mohawk’s edge,
He gave his soul to the living God.
(Verse 3)
The ambush fell on the river bend,
The war cries rang through the morning air,
And the Mohawk warriors bound them tight,
And led them down to the captive’s lair.
Through weeks of march on a bitter trail,
They tore his hands and they broke his bone,
But he blessed the bruised and he healed the sick,
With a gentle heart that was not his own.
(Verse 4)
In the village gates of Ossernenon,
He wore the heavy and heavy chain,
He carved a cross for the little ones,
To ease the weight of his daily pain.
But the elders frowned at the holy sign,
They saw a curse in the twisted wood,
And a shadow fell on the autumn leaves,
Where the young French healer so meekly stood.
(Verse 5)
On a Tuesday eve as the sun went down,
In September’s chill of that fateful year,
Two warriors stepped from the cabin door,
And the Father felt a sudden fear.
The tomahawk fell in the fading light,
The name of Jesus was his last breath,
And the holy Father absolved his soul,
As René closed his eyes in death.
(Chorus)
Oh, sing of René, the surgeon brave,
Who walked the path that the martyrs trod,
In the quiet woods by the Mohawk’s edge,
He gave his soul to the living God.
(Outro)
They cast his bones in the rushing creek,
But his name is written in stars above,
The quiet healer who gave his all,
In the ultimate measure of perfect love.