Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/270

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Till rising where immortal lyres Shall to your hand be given, Ye find that ye on earth have learn'd    The melody of Heaven.

 

steers yon bold adventurous prow On toward the arctick zone, Defying blasts that rudely seal To Ocean's breast like stone? Why dare her crew those fearful seas Where icy mountains dash, And make the proudest ship a wreck With one tremendous crash?

They come, who seek the spirit's gold, They dare yon dreary sphere, And winter startles on his throne, Their strain of praise to hear: They come, Salvation's lamp to light Where frost and darkness reign, And with a deathless joy to cheer The sons of want and pain.

And lo! the chapel rears its head Beneath those stranger-skies, And to the sweet-ton'd Sabbath-bell The thick-ribb'd ice replies, 