To the stars - Bernard ter Haar

Are ye sheep of snowy whiteness,
Which the night as shepherd leads,
When the sun sinks down to slumber
Through the blue ethereal meads?

Are ye lily buds of silver,
Op'ning at the hour of eve,
Wafting down in balmy fragrance,
Best , poor mortals to relieve?

Or are ye the waxlights burning
On the altar of heav'ns dome;
Which , in solemn, silent darkness,
Wraps itself when night doth come?

Are ye coastlights, are ye beacons,
Lighting up the sea we roam?
Gleaming friendly from the windows
Of our Heav'nly Father's home?

Doth some saint gaze down upon us,
From each glitt'ring star on high,
Hailing us with fondest greeting
From his ever beaming eye?

Or are ye the cross of honour,
Hung upon the Christian's breast,
Since, through faith, he stood undaunted
Whilst the cross of grief him press'd?

No! ye are a book of praises,
Written out in living flame,
Hymns ye are, in silver graven,
Blazing forth your Maker's name.

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Bernard ter Haar (1806 - 1880) The Netherlands
Translated by W.R.T.
Source: Specimens from the Dutch poets, with original poems, by W.R.T., Dannenfelser, 1858