There is: else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts. But O th’ exceeding grace
Of highest God! that loves his creatures so,
And all his works with mercies doth embrace,
That blessed angels he sends to and fro,
To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.
How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
To come to succour us, that succour want?
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant,