Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/296

296 "He shall not go,—he shall not go,    That missionary man; For him the swelling sail doth spread,     The tall ship ride the wave, But we will chain him to our coast,     Yes, he shall be our slave:

Not from the groves our wood to bear, Nor water from the vale, Not in the battle-front to stand, Where proudest foe-men quail, Nor the great war-canoe to guide, Where crystal streams turn red; But he shall be our slave to break The soul its living bread."

Then slowly peer'd the rising moon, Above the forest-height, And bathed each cocoa's leafy crown In tides of living light: To every cabin's grassy thatch A gift of beauty gave, And with a crest of silver cheer'd    Pacific's sullen wave.

But o'er that gentle scene, a shout In sudden clangor came, "Come forth, come forth, thou man of God,    And answer to our claim:" So down to those dark island-men, He bow'd him as he spake, "Behold, your servant will I be    For Christ, my Master's sake."