CALLING THE ANGELS IN by Margaret J. Preston

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Oct 31, 1895

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 21, No. 43.

CALLING THE ANGELS IN.

By Margaret J. Preston

We mean to do it; some day, some day, We mean to slacken this fevered rush That is wearing our very souls away, And grant to our goaded hearts a hush That is holy enough to let them hear The footsteps of angels drawing near.

We mean to do it; O, never doubt, When the burden of daytime toil is o’er, We’ll sit and muse while the stars come out, As patriarch sat at the open door Of his tent, with a heavenward gazing eye, To watch for the angels passing by!

We’ve seen them afar at high noontide, When fiercely the world’s hot flashings beat, Yet never have bidden them turn aside And tarry awhile in converse sweet, Nor prayed them to hallow the cheer we spread, To drink of our wine and break our bread.

We promised our hearts that, when the stress Of life work reaches the longed-for close, When the weight that we groan with hinders less, We’ll loosen our thoughts to such repose As banishes care’s distracting din, And then we will call the angels in.

The day we dreamed of comes at length, When, tired of every mocking guest, And broken in spirit and shorn of strength, We drop, indeed, at the door of rest, And wait, and watch, as the days wane on— But the angels we meant to call are gone! —Margaret J. Preston.