By Francis Neil G. Jalando-on
Flowers were put in the “Cathedral in the Glen” to honor the 11 American Baptist missionaries who were martyred 75 years ago.
On December 18, 2018, more than 200 people went on a pilgrimage to Hopevale, Tapaz, Capiz as part of the events for the 75th Hopevale Memorial. The rain made the journey difficult as the trail from Katipunan Evangelical Church to Hopevale Baptist Church became slippery and muddy. When the pilgrims reached Hopevale Baptist Church, Bgry. Aglinab, Tapaz, Capiz, they held a memorial worship service.
The idea, after the service, was to proceed to the Cross where the Hopevale Martyrs were buried and to the Cathedral in the Glen, an open church that Dr. Francis Howard Rose designed. Everyone waited for the sun to come out so that they could take the journey, but it was not meant to be. Although disappointed, the pilgrims also thought that it must have been God’s way of showing them a glimpse of what the 11 American Baptist missionaries experienced during their 20 months of stay in Hopevale before they were executed by the Japanese soldiers on December 20, 1943.
Looking back on World War II, missionary nurse, Jennie Clare Adams, read to the group on June 16, 1943, a poem that she wrote on January 12, 1943. The reading took place on a Wednesday. It must have been their prayer meeting time since Wednesday prayer meetings is an American tradition left by the American Baptist missionaries to Philippine Baptists. The poem that she read has a greater meaning and impact to those who have visited Hopevale.
May this poem affirm our freedom in Jesus Christ, and that no one or nothing can imprison us.
The Hills Shall not Imprison Me
I shall not let these hills imprison me,
Where I for refuge have been forced to flee,
Like walls they shut me in on every side
While offering a sheltered place to hid
Grim war who reaches out with bloody hands,
Some bitter price of every soul demands.
His cruel clutches tightened on our shores,
We felt his fingers touch our very doors,
Our work was soon in smoldering ruin laid,
Our home into an alien fort was made
In wooded hills we chose to hide away
And not in concentration camp to stay.
I shall not let these hills imprison me,
Where I in exile weary months must be.
Their towering peaks conceal from hostile view
But screen the sunrise and the sunset too.
The forest deep seems damp with dew and rain,
My thoughts turn homeward to a sunny plan
The sun emerging from the fields of grain
And sinking into meadow land again.
For I am prairie born where wheat fields grow
Where prairies grasses wave, when breees blow
With eyes that yearn to gaze on distant scene
Must I be cloistered in a small ravine?
I shall not let these hills imprison me,
I shall remember that I still am free,
No hills can from my soul a vision hide,
Nor hope be shackled long whate’er betide
Nor faith be shaken by a troubled day,
If prairie lessons ever with me stay.
O prairie land, whose massive breadth and length
Inspires the soul to greatness and to strength,
Whose sturdy trees withstand the stormy gale
And summer droughts cause not their leaf to fail.
Deep searching roots find streams of water pure,
And anchor on a hidden rock secure.
Faith is instilled by every pasture green
The far horizons teach a hope serene
The scenes of commonplace great lessons tell,
O prairie land, may I apply them well.
I shall not let these hills imprison me
The birds are not shut in, nor shall I be.
I shall look up, and up to azure sky
Beyond the wooded rims of hilltops high,
Beyond the walls that seem to shut me in,
Beyond disturbing sights and dismal dim.
I must be looking up if I would see
What love and goodness God has given to me.
I must look up beyond life’s walls and bars
If I would see the brightness of the stars.
Mine eyes I must lift upward and afraid
Remembering in whom my strength is laid
Each day I must more grateful learn to be
Remembering with joy that I am free
The freedom God alone can give today,
None other gives, and none can take away.
I shall not let these hills imprison me
For soon will sound the cry of victory
Then wanton war and drear exile shall cease
While we behold the glorious dawn of peace.
I shall lift up my heart in grateful prayer
To One who keeps us safely in his care
Then I shall pause to say a kind farewell
To lofty hills and quite forest dell
The hills where I have been so safe and free
Then quite hills that kindly sheltered me
Then I shall climb to yonder hilltop green
And feast mine eyes upon the distant scene
In exultation view the trail before
Then wend the joyous homeward way once more
I shall be grateful then that I am free,
And say, “Those hills did not imprison.”