Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/184

Doth peer above thy summit, as some babe
Might gaze with brow of timid innocence
Over a giant's shoulder. Hail, lone star!
Thou friendly watcher o'er an erring world,
Thine uncondemning glance doth aptly teach
Of that untiring mercy, which vouchsafes
Thee light,—and man salvation.
                                               Not to mark
And treasure up his follies, or recount
Their secret record in the court of Heaven,
Thou coms't. Methinks, thy tenderness would shroud
With trembling mantle, his infirmities.
The purest natures are most pitiful.
But they who feel corruption strong within,
Do launch their darts most fiercely at the trace
Of their own image, in another's breast.
—So the wild bull, that in some mirror spies
His own mad visage, furiously destroys
The frail reflector. But thou, stainless Star!
Shalt stand a watchman on Creation's walls,
While race on race their little round shall mark,
And slumber in the tomb. Still point to all,
Who thro' this evening scene may wander on,
And from yon mountain's cold magnificence
Turn to thy milder beauty, point to all,
The eternal love that nightly sends thee forth,
A silent teacher of its boundless lore.