Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/72

72  Than famine and despair
 * Among mankind to spread,

And Earth our mother's curse to bear
 * Down to the silent dead.

 

breezes freshly blew
 * Around a cloistered pile,

And Tyne, high-swoln with vernal rains,
 * Was murmuring near the while;

And there, within his studious cell,
 * The man of mighty mind,

His cowled and venerable brow
 * With sickness pale, reclined.

Yet still, to give God's word a voice,
 * To bless the British Isles,

He labored, while inspiring faith
 * Sustained the toil with smiles;

