Zinzendorff and Other Poems/"To die is Gain"
"TO DIE IS GAIN."
Say'st thou, 'tis gain to die? And may I ask
How thou hast weigh'd, and by what process brought
The Apostle's answer to thy sum of life?
Where are thy balances, and whose firm hand
Did poise therein thy talents and their use
To show such blest result? Time's capital
Needs well be husbanded, to leave the amount
Of gain behind, when at a moment's call
The spirit fleets, and the dissolving flesh
Yields to the earth-worm's fang.
Say, hath thy lip
Too often satiate, loath'd the mingled cup
So madly fill'd at Pleasure's turbid stream?
Or hath thine ear, the promises of hope
Drank on in giddy sickness, till the touch
Of grave philosophy, their emptiness
Detected, and to their thin element
Of air, reduc'd? Or doth thy cheated heart
Sowing its warm affections on the wind
And reaping but the whirlwind, turn with scorn
From every harvest which these changeful skies
Can ripen or destroy? Then hast thou prov'd
The loss of life, but not the gain of death.
But hast thou by thy ceaseless prayers obtain'd
Such token of acceptance with thy Lord,
So fill'd each post of duty, so sustain'd
All needful discipline, so deeply mourn'd
Each burden of iniquity, that Death
Comes as a favor'd messenger to lead
To its bright heritage, the willing soul?
—Searcher of hearts, thou knowest! Thou alone
The hidden thought dost read, the daily act
Note unforgetful. Take away the dross
Of earthly principle, the gather'd film
Of self-deluding hope, the love and hate
Which have their root in dust, until the soul
Regarding life and death with equal eye
Absorbs its will in thine.