 | Zinzendorff, and other poems |  |
297
“GO, TELL PETER.”
“Go your way,—tell his disciples, and Peter, that he goeth before you, into Galilee.”
St. Mark xvi. 7.
But wherefore Peter? He whose pride
Dream'd on the monarch sea to tread,
Whose traitor tongue with oaths denied
His Master, in the hour of dread,
Wherefore to him in accents sweet,
Such words of heavenly solace bear,
And not to those whose firmer feet
Indignant foil'd the Tempter's snare?
Dream'd on the monarch sea to tread,
Whose traitor tongue with oaths denied
His Master, in the hour of dread,
Wherefore to him in accents sweet,
Such words of heavenly solace bear,
And not to those whose firmer feet
Indignant foil'd the Tempter's snare?
Hark! from a risen Saviour's tomb,
The guardian seraph makes reply,
And sweet amid sepulchral gloom
Flows forth the language of the sky,
To teach us how the flame of love,
With silent ministry sublime,
May in repentant bosoms move,
And neutralize a mass of crime.
The guardian seraph makes reply,
And sweet amid sepulchral gloom
Flows forth the language of the sky,
To teach us how the flame of love,
With silent ministry sublime,
May in repentant bosoms move,
And neutralize a mass of crime.
So when some erring brother mourns,
His recreant course, with grief severe,
Haste, and with tender accent breathe
The “Go, tell Peter,” in his ear,
For angels soothe the pangs of woe
That swell when contrite tears are shed,
And pure as light, the pearl may glow
That darkest slept in ocean's bed.
His recreant course, with grief severe,
Haste, and with tender accent breathe
The “Go, tell Peter,” in his ear,
For angels soothe the pangs of woe
That swell when contrite tears are shed,
And pure as light, the pearl may glow
That darkest slept in ocean's bed.
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