I heard an angel singing in the air,
And looking upward in my fear and dread,
I said, 'O thou whose looks and garments are so fair,
Why sing ye thus so sweetly overhead?'
Then bending in his meekness unto me,
He answer'd, 'I am sent by God to give
Two watchwords unto those who yet may see,
No bound but that of earth that they may live.'
'And who are they,' I question'd, 'that receive
This boon of His high grace?' and he replied,
'The firm in heart, who have the power to sieve
The restless day, and cast its dregs aside.
'And with the first sweet watchword, which is 'Pray,'
They move,' he said, 'in holy fear and trust,
Knowing that He will lead them to his day,
Which is beyond the realm of death and dust.
'I sing to cheer them that they may not quail,
Nor shrink amid life's busy toil and pain;
But if through all the weary fight they fail
To use the second watchword, all is vain.'
And bowing down, methought I heard his wing
Rustle, to seek the balmy fields above,
When, like the gushing of a second spring,
Came downward from his lips the watchword—'Love.'