Poems (Sharpless)/The Soul's Companions

by Frances M. Sharpless

THE SOUL'S COMPANIONS

Two holy angels hath our blessed Lord
 Appointed of His nearest seraphim
To open unto men His gracious word,
 And gather souls to Him.

One comes in glory, with embracing arms:
 And one in solemn shadow moves apart;
Yet both with their mysterious, heaven-born charms
 Are near each human heart.

Joy brings her lavish gifts of hope and love
 Crowning with garlands the rejoicing head,
Until the eyes forget to look above,
 So fair the world lies spread.

Few are the spirits, few, and child-like pure,
 Who follow her light feet to perfect bliss
Where love and duty blend in peace secure,
 Nor feebly tread amiss.

But sorrow wheresoe'er her seal is set,
 Implants a thorn that stings with cruel pain;
Until we seek 'mid anguish and regret
 Some earthly balm in vain.

Thou strengthener of souls! who piercest deep,
 Mother of tears! dreaded and feared of men!
On whose stern bosom all who sadly weep
 Are soothed to peace again.

He who has never seen thy awful face
 Nor kept with thee pale vigils thro' the night,
Listening thy wondrous ministry of grace,
 Learns life but half aright.

But he upon whose brow thy kiss is pressed
 Finds a fresh courage in each bitter loss,
And follows thee, to find his only rest
 Low at the sacred cross.