THE ANGEL'S STORY. 3 All the skill of the great City To save that little life was vain; And the mighty love within her So she knelt there still beside him, Suddenly an unseen Presence Checked those constant moaning cries, For a radiant angel hovered Smiling o'er the little bed; White his raiment, from his shoulders Snowy dove-like pinions spread, While, with tender love, the angel, In his arms the sick child folding, So the angel, slowly rising, Spreads his wings; and through the air While the child, thus clinging, floated Gazing from his shining guardian Know, O little one, that Heaven Lives divine in Heaven again! THE ANGEL'S STORY. "Once, in that great town below us, In a poor, a narrow street, Dwelt a little sickly Orphan ; Gentle aid, or pity sweet, Never in life's rugged pathway Guided his poor tottering feet. "All the striving anxious forethought, That should only come with age, Weighed upon his baby spirit, Showed him soon life's sternest page; Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow Was his only heritage! "All too weak for childish pastimes, On his hands so small and trembling, 66 Dreaming strange and longing fancies Of cool forests far away; And of rosy, happy children, Laughing merrily at play, Coming home through green lanes, bearing Trailing branches of white May. 5 "Scarce a glimpse of the blue heavens Gleamed above that narrow street, And the sultry air of Summer (That you call so warm and sweet) Fevered the poor Orphan, dwelling In the crowded alley's heat. "One bright day, with feeble footsteps. "There were trees with giant branches, Wafted even a breath of perfume "He against the gate of iron Pressed his wan and wistful face, Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure At the glories of the place; Never had his brightest day-dream Shone with half such wondrous grace. 江 THE ANGEL'S STORY. "You were playing in that garden, And the fond eyes watching o'er you, "When your servants, tired of seeing Gave him coin, and bade him go; "But that look of childish sorrow |