Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/146

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So near thy home, blest saint? Thy Father's house Hath many mansions, if it were not so He would have told thee, who hath there prepar'd A place for thee, his servant. Earth's array Of charms was strong to tempt thy lingering love. The fond communings round thy native hearth, Where 'mid the honor'd and the blest did blend Soul deep with soul, thy own unclouded home, Thy answer'd sympathies, thy hallow'd hopes, A parent's joys close clustering round thy heart, The flock that gather'd near thee, pleas'd to learn From thy mild eye, and lip benign, the will Of the Chief Shepherd,—ties like these were thine. —And one there is, who with a widow'd heart Through the lone shadows of life's pilgrim-path, Will follow in thy footsteps, even as thou Didst follow Christ. Thy pleasant spot of birth Is sad without thee, and an ancient head Circled with years and blessings as a crown Bows low with the first pang thou e'er didst cause A father's bosom. Ah! and there are tears Of tender love in many an eye for thee, Sackcloth and ashes in the house of God. 'Tis well. Pure spirits should not pass unmourn'd, This earth is poor without them. But a view Of better climes broke on thee, and thy soul