And all his works with mercy doth embrace,
That blessed angels he sends to and fro,
To serve to wicked men, to serve his wicked foe.
Spenser.
The multitude of angels, with a shout
Loud as from numbers without number, sweet
As from blest voices uttering joy, Heaven rung
With jubilee, and loud Hosannas filled
The eternal regions: lowly reverent
Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground,