Classic Poem

As the glorified angels were singing a song
Of rapture and peace in the skies,
God beckoned a cherub from out the glad throng
And gazed in his innocent eyes.
“Go forth,” said the King, “with a message to Earth,
A message of pity and love;
Be mortal, that souls, through the pangs of thy birth,
May mount to the star-worlds above.”

The harp-strings were swept till the quivering notes
Burst forth in a pæan of praise
And blended with anthems from millions of throats,
And the heavens with light were ablaze.
Then the cherub knelt down and was blessed by the King,
And tenderly bidding adieu
To the choir of seraphs, on wide-spreading wing
Through the clouds the sweet messenger flew.

My heart was elate with ecstatic delight
As I held a wee babe to my breast—
A cherub,—the fairest that e'er met my sight,
Or that loving arms ever caressed.
Like a sunbeam from Heaven, that radiant boy
Through the windows of Home softly stole,
Dispelling my sorrow and scattering joy
In the depths of my innermost soul.

Oh God! how I worshipped that beautiful flower—
That blossom from Paradise blown—
Nor divined that for only a swift-passing hour
Were its beauty and perfume my own.
My vision saw naught of the cherubic band,
No harp-notes were borne from the spheres,
Idolatry banished the far spirit-land—
A baby voice deafened my ears.

I fed on the rippling laughter that broke
O'er his cheeks like a sparkling wave;
It was ever of him that I lovingly spoke,
To him every thought fondly gave.
I bent o'er his cradle when Angels of Sleep
Kissed his eyelids with tremulous breath;
Nor knew that above him would stealthily creep
The sable-hued Angel of Death.

But a trumpet soon rang in the darkness of night,
And the cherub was summoned away,
While a torrent of tears fell and blinded my sight,
And writhing in anguish I lay.
In vain I implored my sweet babe to return
To my arms and his cradle again;
In vain for his presence my spirit might yearn,
And my heart feel its horrible pain!

Oh, the deep desolation, the silence and grief!
How it humbled my pride to the dust!
How I prayed to a merciful God for relief,
Though the punishment meted was just.
Then the message of peace was revealed to my soul,
And I knelt at the footstool divine,
And back from the glory I saw the clouds roll,
And the joy of the pardoned was mine.

When I gaze at the gems that besprinkle the skies
An angel comes fluttering down,
And tenderly wipes every tear from my eyes
And shows me his star-jewelled crown.
'Tis my baby, immortal, eternally blest,
Who comes the glad message to tell—
That when 'neath the turf my frail body shall rest
My soul with the angels shall dwell.