Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/55

Rh

say 'tis Mercy that doth rend
 * Of Hope the healthful root?

The visitation of a Friend
 * That blights affection's fruit?

A tender florist's care, that pours
 * The riven blossoms round,

And strews the richest, fairest flowers
 * To perish on the ground?

Yon tree, that from the noon-day heat
 * Did shield the traveler's head,

And when the tempest fiercely beat
 * A sheltering shadow spread,

Whose boughs reviving fragrance cast
 * O'er all the sons of ill,

Behold it smitten 'neath the blast,
 * Say ye 'twas Mercy still?

Yea, Mercy! Not that erring love
 * Which man to man extends,

But His high discipline above
 * Who pain with wisdom blends.

Beyond the cloud, the pang, the tomb
 * Of this terrestrial clod,

Where trees of glory ever bloom
 * Fast by the throne of God,

Ye in the page of Heaven may read
 * With seraph students blest,

How Sorrow's sternest teachings lead
 * To everlasting rest.