Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/31

To plant the Tree of Life 'mid arctic frosts,
That the poor Greenlander ¹² might taste its fruits,
And 'mid his rayless night, devoutly bless
The Sun of Righteousness. Ye did not shun
The savage in his ignorance, or loathe
To share his hut.
The passport to your care
Hath been the sign of deepest wretchedness,
The Ethiop forehead, ¹³ and the name of slave.
—Teach us your self-denial,—we who strive
To pluck the mote out of our brother's creed,
Till Charity's forgotten plant doth ask
The water-drop, and die. With zeal we watch
And weigh the doctrine, while the spirit 'scapes;
And in the carving ¹⁴ of our cummin-seeds,
Our metaphysical hair-splittings, fail
To note the orbit of that star of love
Which never sets.
Yea, even the heathen tribes
Who from our lips, amid their chaos dark,
First heard the "fiat lux,"—and joyous came
Like Lazarus from his tomb, do wilder'd ask
What guide to follow; for they see the men
They took for angels, warring in their paths
For Paul, and for Apollos, till they lose
The certainty that they are one in Christ,—
That simple clue, which thro' life's labyrinth
Leads to heaven's gate.
Each differing sect, whose base
Is on the same Pure Word, doth strictly scan
Its neighbor's superstructure,—point and arch,—
Buttress and turret,—till the hymn of praise,