God has two angels whom He sends
Amongst His children here,
They come, as all His angels come,
To strengthen and to cheer.
But they seem often stern and cold,
We think them cruel foes,
And turn away and strive to hide,
Or shrink beneath their blows.
That dark, grim form and piercing glance—
I tremble and I cry,
"Withhold thy hand so pitiless,
O strike not, lest I die."
And thou, so grave and full of care,
No brightness gilds thy brow,
Wilt thou not bid me rest awhile?
Let joy possess me now.
They will not heed, but calmly take
My trembling hands, and press
Upon my lips a kiss so soft
It has no bitterness.
Tearful and faint I, yielding, trust,
And trusting, learn to see
Those dreaded forms hide God Himself,
Grace veiled in mystery.
Would'st know what are these spirits' names
Whose ministry we prove?
Patience and Pain we call them now,
God calls them PEACE and LOVE.
—Christian World.