 | Zinzendorff, and other poems |  |
MORAVIAN MISSIONS TO GREENLAND.
Why steers yon bold adventurous prow
On toward the arctick zone,
Defying blasts that rudely seal
To Ocean's breast like stone?
Why dare her crew those fearful seas
Where icy mountains dash,
And make the proudést ship a wreck
With one tremendous crash?
On toward the arctick zone,
Defying blasts that rudely seal
To Ocean's breast like stone?
Why dare her crew those fearful seas
Where icy mountains dash,
And make the proudést ship a wreck
With one tremendous crash?
They come, who seek the spirit's gold,
They dare yon dreary sphere,
And winter startles on his throne,
Their strain of praise to hear:
They come, Salvation's lamp to light
Where frost and darkness reign,
And with a deathless joy to cheer
The sons of want and pain.
They dare yon dreary sphere,
And winter startles on his throne,
Their strain of praise to hear:
They come, Salvation's lamp to light
Where frost and darkness reign,
And with a deathless joy to cheer
The sons of want and pain.
And lo! the chapel rears its head
Beneath those stranger-skies,
And to the sweet-ton'd Sabbath-bell
The thick-ribb'd ice replies,
The unletter'd Esquimaux doth pluck
The victory from the tomb,
And grateful seek that glorious clime
Where flowers forever bloom.
Beneath those stranger-skies,
And to the sweet-ton'd Sabbath-bell
The thick-ribb'd ice replies,
271
The victory from the tomb,
And grateful seek that glorious clime
Where flowers forever bloom.
When the last tinge of green departs,
The last bird takes its flight,
And the far sun no beam bestows
On that long polar night,
When in her subterranean cell
To shun the tempest's ire,
Life shrinking guards her pallid flame
That feebly lifts its spire.
The last bird takes its flight,
And the far sun no beam bestows
On that long polar night,
When in her subterranean cell
To shun the tempest's ire,
Life shrinking guards her pallid flame
That feebly lifts its spire.
The teachers of a love divine,
That firm, devoted band,
With no weak sigh of fond regret
Recall their father-land,
The unchanging smile that lights their brow,
While storms of Winter roar,
Doth better prove their heaven-born Faith
Than Learning's loftiest lore.
That firm, devoted band,
With no weak sigh of fond regret
Recall their father-land,
The unchanging smile that lights their brow,
While storms of Winter roar,
Doth better prove their heaven-born Faith
Than Learning's loftiest lore.
| Zinzendorff, and other poems | |