Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/204

204  But thou, oh man! Whose hold on life is like the spider's web, Who hast thy footing 'mid so many snares, So many pitfalls, yet perceivest them not,— Seek peace with Him who made thee,—bind the shield Of faith in Christ more firmly o'er thy breast, That when its pulse stands still, thy soul may pass Unshrinking, unreluctant, unamazed, Into the fullness of the light of Heaven.

 

for the dreary vales Of ice-bound Labrador! Where the frost-king breathes on the slippery sails Till the mariner wakes no more, Lift high the lamp that never fails To that dark and sterile shore.

Light for the forest child! An outcast though he be From haunts where the sun of his childhood smiled, And the country of the free,— Pour the hope of Heaven o'er his desert-wild, For what home on earth has he? 