Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/108

108  Seek ye some pure and thornless rose? Some friend with changeless eye? Some fount whence living water flows? Go, seek those things on high.

Thither bid Hope a pilgrim go, And Faith her mansion rear, Even while amid this world of woe Ye shed the stranger's tear.

If Folly tempts or Sin allures, Be dead to all their art, So shall eternal life be yours When time's brief years depart.

 

stood beneath a lordly dome As pitiless and dread, As when within some cottage-home He smites the peasant's head: "Haste! Call the queen!" a hollow tone Of fainting anguish cried, And she who sat on England's throne Came to the sufferer's side.

The dying Countess strove in vain Her last request to speak, Till tears of woe with dews of pain Blent on her ashen cheek: 