The Angel Over the Roof

The Angel Over the Roof

In the clear air of this vernal morn,

Azure above and crystal below.

Ere the full glory of day is born,

And shadows melt in its rosy glow,

Wrapped in a billowy warp and woof—

The smoke of our household incense—stands

A fair white angel over the roof,

Beckoning up with its cloudy hands.

Beckoning up to the brilliant skies;

Beckoning up to the happy home,

To the pearly gateway of Paradise,

Standing ajar in the azure dome;

Waiting ajar for the jeweled day,

Over the threshold to pass, and light

Those purified souls on their homeward way

Who have wandered from earth in the darkness of night.

Under its shadow we kneel and pray;

And, floating down from the summer sky,

The golden crown of the growing day,

Touches its forehead by and bye;

A blessing it breathes on the charmed air

Over the hearth where our souls have kneeled;

Its crowning glory is our answered prayer,

The benediction of love revealed.

Over all houses, where men reside,

Spirits have stationed an angel guard—

Souls of the loved who have lived and died—

Faithful and constant their watch and ward.

Our sentinel floats in the balmy air;

Over the roof we see him stand,

Clothed in a garment all white and fair,

And pointing up with his cloudy hand.

Charlie T. Bates

1:44, p. 1

5.19.1860