Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/101

There was a glancing forth of glorious thought,
That scorn'd earth's vanities. I saw thee stand
With but a few brief summers o'er thy head,
And in the consecrated courts of God
Confess thy Saviour's name. And they who mark'd
The deep devotion and the high resolve
Of that young half-blown bud, did wondering ask
What its full bloom must be. But now thy couch
Is with thine infant train, where the sad voice
Of the poor Ceylon mother tells her child
Of all thy prayers and labors. Yes, thy rest
Is in the bosom of that fragrant isle
Where heathen man with lavish nature strives,
To blot the lesson she would teach of God.
Thy pensive sisters pause upon thy tomb
To catch the spirit that did bear thee through
All tribulation, till thy robes were white,
To join the angelic train. And so farewell,
My childhood's playmate, and my sainted friend,
Whose bright example, not without rebuke
Admonisheth, that home and ease and wealth
And native land, are well exchang'd for Heaven.