Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/180

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He, with suspicious glance The curtain'd breast doth read, And raise the accusing balance high, To weigh the doubtful deed.

Oh Thou, whose piercing thought Doth note each secret path, For mercy to Thy throne, we fly, From man's condemning wrath.

Thou, who dost dimness mark In Heaven's resplendent way, And folly in that angel host Who serve thee night and day.

How fearless should our trust In thy compassion be, When from our brother of the dust We dare appeal to Thee.

 

Who bendeth with meek eye, and bloodless cheek Thus o'er the new-born babe? content to take As payment for all agony and pain, Its first soft kiss, its first breath on her brow, The first faint pressure of its tiny hand? It is not needful that I speak the name Of that one being on this earth, whose love Doth never faulter. 