Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/188

I go,—my best beloved,—farewell!
    Borne o'er the faithless sea,
When the wild waves like mountains swell,
    I will remember thee:
Thy meekness, 'mid affliction's strife,
    Thy lifted glance of prayer,
Thy firmness 'neath the storms of life
    Shall be my pattern there.

And when on Afric's bleeding breast,
    The scorned of every shore,
The chained, the trampled, the opprest,
    Salvation's balm I pour,
Thy zeal, that for a Saviour's name
    Beamed forth with cloudless ray,
Like ancient Israel's pillared flame
    Shall cheer my pilgrim way.

If toiling 'mid that sultry glade
    The Spoiler's call I hear,
Or 'neath the palm-tree's murmuring shade
    It warns my willing ear,
Then may the faith that fired thine eye,
    'Mid pangs untold and strong,
My dying pillow hover nigh,
    And wake the triumph-song.