And hear the ‘whispering angels’ say,
“Sister Spirit, come away;”
And borne on Faith and Fancy’s wing,
Still hear them as they shout, and sing,
“My ears with sounds seraphic ring,”
My soul through all its mystic springs,
Thrill like a Harp’s harmonious strings,
Defiance at the foe to fling;
That I may shout, exult, and cry:
“Lend, lend, your wings! I mount, I fly!”