Angels Of The Sacred Stair

Father, whose goodness none can know, but they Who see Thee face to face, By man hath come the infinite display Of Thy victorious grace; But fallen man--the creature of a day-- Skills not that love to trace. It needs, to tell the triumph Thou hast wrought, An Angel's deathless fire, an Angel's reach of thought.

It needs that very Angel, who with awe, Amid the garden shade, The great Creator in His sickness saw, Soothed by a creature's aid, And agonised, as victim of the Law Which He Himself had made; For who can praise Him in His depth and height, But he who saw Him reel amid that solitary fight?