GOOD ANGELS.
BY L. E. L.
THE ANGEL OF EARTH.
Triumph, for my task is done—
Triumph, for my prize is won.
Angel! who dost keep the gate
Where the rescued souls await
For the speaking of that word
Which doth sheath the fiery sword,
And reveals to human eyes
Hope's long promised paradise,
Bend thine head, and stretch thine hand:
Place! in thy immortal band,
For the child I bear above,
In the strength of faith and love.
Vanquish'd at my feet, behold
He the serpent king of old.
Round us is the burning coil—
Who may 'scape from such a toil?
Flashes yet his fiery eye—
Who may its fierce light defy?
Who might aid? for vain were here
Human sword, or human spear.
Death is on each forked tongue,
Lightning round each neck is hung:
But I triumph'd, for I came
In the Saviour's blessed name.
Victory o'er the soil and snare,
O'er earth's crime, and o'er earth's care;
