Angels

We look not for the angels o'er the river
Circling in changless brightness round the Throne.
Think not our Father, of all blessings Giver
On earth withholds their presence from His own!

Each kind word in an hour of sorrow spoken,
Each hand outstretched to lift from human woe,
Each tender, pitying thought for the heart-broken,
Each smile that cheers our brothers as they go,

Becomes an angel, hovering in protection,
A proof of ever-present Love divine,
Guiding men always upward to perfection,
With heavenly light and glory e'er to shine.

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Article
Love is Interest
April 4, 1901
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