The Guardian Angel
A dream-thread, nature based poem in three books. By James Scott, D.D. Printed in 1859.
“I stood within the cottage door; nor there
Alone, for angels also were within,
Ministering to an aged man, who lay
Upon a bed of leaves a-dying--old,
With worn and wrinkled brow, and scalp all bare.
No mortal watched his couch of death: alone
He lay, not seeing, hearing not, that concourse bright
Which made his solitude a crowded court.
He prayed, and through my soul his words of prayer
Passed like an arrow, cleaving the blue air,
Instinct, and piercing with divinest hope
And faith.”
Alone, for angels also were within,
Ministering to an aged man, who lay
Upon a bed of leaves a-dying--old,
With worn and wrinkled brow, and scalp all bare.
No mortal watched his couch of death: alone
He lay, not seeing, hearing not, that concourse bright
Which made his solitude a crowded court.
He prayed, and through my soul his words of prayer
Passed like an arrow, cleaving the blue air,
Instinct, and piercing with divinest hope
And faith.”