Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/201

Kindred and strangers near him prest,
    If life's elastic bound,
Still thrilled that hospitable breast,
    Where was the greeting sound?

I saw him 'neath that hallowed fane,
    Where souls to God draw near,
The dirge invoked with melting strain
    His inattentive ear,—
Borne on by mourning friends he came,
    They bent beneath the dead,
If life inspired that manly frame
    Where was the buoyant tread?

The clay-cold pillow of his rest,
    Was curtained dark as night,
Tho' at his fireside, fair and blest,
    The evening lamps were bright,
And deep, a voice of wailing rose
    From that once happy dome,
If nought the fount of being froze
    Why turned he from his home?

But while in bitterness I spake,
    Saviour! thy voice divine
Claimed for thy cross and sufferings sake,
    The deathless soul as thine:—
Then I believed that he who slept
    Survived, tho' Nature failed,
And while an earthly sorrow wept,
    The faith of Heaven prevailed.