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11,10,11,10,11,10,11,10,10,10,10,10,10,6

SUBMISSION.

"It is the Lord; let him do what seemeth him good."--1 Sam. 3:18.

"Du sollst," so sprach der Herr, "du sollst ermatten."

Möwes.

transl., Jane Borthwick, 1858

These stanzas were written by the devoted pastor, Heinrich Moewes, in 1832, when obliged by illness to resign the ministerial office.

Thus said the Lord: "Thy days of health are over!"

And, like the mist, my vigor fled away;

Till but a feeble shadow was remaining,

A fragile form, fast hasting to decay.

The May of life, with all its blooming flowers--

The joys of life, in colors bright arrayed--

The hopes of life, in all their airy promise--

136

I saw them in the distance slowly fade;

Then sighs of sorrow in my soul would rise,

Then silent tears would overflow my eyes!

But a warm sunbeam, from a higher sphere,

Stole through the gloom, and dried up every tear.

Is this Thy will, good Lord?--the strife is o'er,

Thy servant weeps no more.

"Thy cherished flock thou mayest feed no longer!"--

Thus said the Lord, who gave them to my hand;

Nor even was my sinking heart permitted

To ask the reason of the stern command.

The Shepherd's rod had been so gladly carried,

The flock bad followed long, and loved it well:

Alas! the hour was dark, the stroke was heavy,

When sudden from my nerveless grasp it fell.

Then sighs of sorrow in my soul would rise,

Then rushing tears would overflow my eyes!

137

But I beheld Thee, O my Lord and God!

Beneath the Cross, lay down the Shepherd's rod;

Is this Thy will, good Lord?--the strife is o'er,

Thy servant weeps no more.

"Never again thou mayest feed my people!"

Thus said the Lord, with countenance severe;

And bade me lay aside, at once, forever,

The robes of office, honored long and dear.

The sacred mantle from my shoulders falling,

The sacred girdle loosening at His word,

I could but think and say, while sadly gazing,

I have been once a pastor of the Lord!

Then groans of anguish in my soul would rise,

Then burning tears would overflow my eyes!

But His own garment once was torn away,

To the rude soldiery a spoil and prey;

Is this Thy will, good Lord?--the strife is o'er,

Thy servant weeps no more.

138

"From the calm port of safety rudely severed,

Through stormy waves tby shattered bark must go,

And dimly see, amid the darkness sinking,

Nothing but heaven above, and depths below!"

Thus said the Lord--and through a raging ocean

Of doubts and fears my spirit toiled in vain.

Ah! many a dove went forth, of hope inquiring.

But none with olive leaf returned again!

Then groans of anguish in my soul would rise,

Then tears of bitterness o'erflowed my eyes!

But through the gloom the promised light was given,

From the dark waves I could look up to heaven:

Is this Thy will, good Lord?--the strife is o'er,

Thy servant weeps no more.

"Thou shalt find kindred hearts, in love united,

And with them in the wilderness rejoice.

139

Yet stand prepared, each gentle tie untwining,

To separate, at my commanding voice."

Thus said the Lord--He gave, as He had promised--

How many a loving heart has met my own!

But, ever must the tender bonds be broken,

And each go forwards, distant and alone!

Then sighs of sorrow in my soul would rise,

Then tears of anguish overflowed my eyes!-

But Thou hast known the bitter parting day,

From the beloved John hast turned away--

Is this Thy will, good Lord?--the strife is o'er,

Thy servant weeps no more.

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