Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/135

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We go the way their steps have trod, From love's forsaken bowers: Their simple shroud, their narrow house, Their lowly bed are ours; And in those mansions of the soul Where tear was never shed, Doubt not there yet is room for us, For so the Saviour said.

Oh could we cheerfully to God Yield back the friends he gave, Or with such tear as Jesus shed Bedew their peaceful grave, How pure from the Refiner's hand The spirits gold would rise, And Faith from transient sorrow gain New fitness for the skies.

 

They said she was alone,—and that she stood Amid the corpses of her three fair babes, And by his side who to her heart had been Lover and comforter for many a year, And that he too was dead. Amaz'd I look'd To see if it were so,—and on his lip There was no breath, and in his eye no light. —They said she was alone. And many wept In company with her. For he had fallen 