ANGELS ON EARTH.
BY BLANCHE BENAIRDE.
It sometimes chances, in this world of wo,
That lovely flowers in gloomy forests grow,
Which freely lend their sweetness to impart
A sense of pleasure to the stranger's heart.
They come to cheer and bless, like showers of rain
That fall in mercy on the parched plain,
And bloom in beauty, fair as though the light
That shines from heaven had never been from sight.
These flowers are emblems of the angels fair
That oft appear, man's lot to bless and share.
He dwells within a dreary forest wild,
No cheering sun has ever on him smiled,
His way is hedged with thorns, his soul is sad—
He spies an angel in love's vestment clad;
Kind words are spoken, and his grief has flown,
His heart is cheered—for he is not alone;
An angel ministers to him and points above,
Bidding him cast his care on endless love.
He lifts his eyes to heaven, and there behold,
The azure sky, touched with a tinge of gold,
Giving him promise of a brighter day,
A life more calm, more clear his onward way.
And angels, too, appear when Death comes nigh,
To wipe the bitter tear from Sorrow's eye—
They whisper of that bright and blessed shore
Where pain and suffering will be no more.
Oh, there are angels near us all the while,
That guard our homes and sweetly on us smile!
They minister to all—sometimes unseen—
And change life's desert to a living green.