Zinzendorff and Other Poems/"The Son of Man, is Lord of the Sabbath"
"The Son of Man, is Lord of the Sabbath.”—Matthew xii, 8.
Behold, the day of rest. The purple morn
As if baptiz'd in purer light, doth spread
Its banner forth. Toil wears a cheerful smile,
And Piety, in silent prayer reclines,
Pondering the page inspir'd.
There was a Seer
Who 'neath Beersheba's groves, in ancient days
Dwelt as a prince. Once, toward Moriah's mount,
To do a strange and fearful sacrifice,
He journey'd with his son. Just where its base
Sprang steeply from the valley's breast, he paus'd,
And to his servants spake,—"Abide ye here,
While we ascend and worship." Thus our souls
Would charge the busy cares that thro' the week
Held them in bondage,—"Enter not the bound
Of consecration; ye are of the earth,
Here rest, till we return."
Thou! who didst rise
O'er the seal'd sepulchre, the Roman guard
Rigorous and vigilant, so grant us grace
To rise, on this thy day. And when we come
Down from the mount of blessing, to our paths
Of daily care and duty, should we ask
Imperative, our happiness from Earth,
Send us that message which the angels spake
To those who mournful search'd thy vacant tomb,
"Not here, but risen."
So give us power to walk
Even till another Sabbath, with a heart
Full of sublime remembrances, a brow
Bearing them brightly forth, like him who beam'd
On Sinai's cliff, the language of the skies.