Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/239

Rh  Though on the climax of our joy, stern Death Should steal unlocked for, as the lightning flash Rendeth the summer-cloud. But now, adieu, My sainted guide. The midnight hour doth warn Me from thy cherished pages, though methinks The beauty of thy presence and thy voice, Whose tones, melodious, charmed a listening throng, Still linger near. It is not meet for us To call thee brother, we who dwell in clay, And find the impress of the earth so strong Upon our purest gold. Spirit of bliss! Who twin'st thyself around the living heart By holiest memories, my prayer this night Shall be a hymn of gratitude for thee.

 

land! in summer smiling, Hill and valley, grove and stream, Home! whose nameless charms beguiling Peaceful lull'd our infant dream, Haunts! through which our childhood hasted, Where the earliest wild-flowers grew, Church! where God's free grace we tasted, Gems of memory's wealth,—adieu! 