ANGEL.
In this dim world of clouding cares,
We rarely know, till 'wildered eyes
See white wings lessening up the skies,
The Angels with us unawares.
Ballad of Babe Christabel. G. MASSEY.
Around our pillows golden ladders rise,
And up and down the skies,
With wingèd sandals shod,
The angels come, and go, the Messengers of God!
Nor, though they fade from us, do they depart—
It is the childly heart:
We walk as heretofore,
Adown their shining ranks, but see them nevermore.
Hymn to the Beautiful. R.H. STODDARD.
For God will deign
To visit oft the dwellings of just men
Delighted, and with frequent intercourse
Thither will send his wingèd messengers
On errands of supernal grace.
Paradise Lost, Bk. VII. MILTON.
But sad as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
The Pleasures of Hope, Pt. II. T. CAMPBELL.
What though my wingèd hours of bliss have been,
Like angel-visits, few and far between.
The Pleasures of Hope, Pt. II. T. CAMPBELL.