How dear is the thought, that the angels of God

May bow their bright wings to the world they once trod;

Will leave the sweet songs of the mansions above,

To breathe o’er our bosoms some message of love!

They come, on the wings of the morning they come,

Impatient to lead some poor wanderer home;

Some sinner to save from his darkened abode,

And lay him to rest in the arms of his God.

They come when we wander, they come when we pray,

In mercy to guard us wherever we stray;

A glorious cloud, their bright witness is given;

Encircling us here are these angels of heaven.