O, when they laid her form to rest
Beneath the churchyard sod,
I longed to follow in the way
Her angel feet had trod;
For, crushed and bruised, my spirit yearned
To hide itself in God.
Love led me to the inner depth,
Which sorrow had unsealed,
And there I saw the wealth of power
Within my soul concealed—
In that dark, desolating hour,
Life’s meaning stood revealed.
I knew myself, and knowing this,
The power to me was given
To bridge across the dark abyss
Between my soul and heaven,
And gather up the golden link
Which seemed so harshly riven.
The angel hand of her I loved
Was gently laid in mine;
She led me, by a path of peace,
To Truth’s eternal shrine,
Where my glad soul will never cease
To worship Love Divine.
Thus have I learned how vain are creeds
Man’s reason to control;
His lesser life supplies its needs
From Life’s majestic Whole.
Love is the guiding star to Love,
And Soul must speak to Soul.
THE ANGEL OF HEALING.
“They shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.”
Forth from a region of shadowless calm,
Forth from a garden of spices and balm,
Came a bright angel, an angel of love,
Tenderly bearing a beautiful dove;
Soft as the dew-drops his feet pressed the sod,
So softly no blossom was bruised as he trod.
Down through the realms of the blue summer air,
Floated the angel so gentle and fair—
Down to the grief-stricken bosom of earth,
Whose children must suffer and sin from their birth—
Down where the tears of the mourner are shed,
And wailings of sorrow are heard for the dead.