Michael, Israel's Prince, is glorious, clad in panoply of war; *"Who is as the God of Israel" is his challenge near and far; But a higher still than Michael soon shall meet your raptured gaze, And ye shall forget his glories in _your_ Captain's brighter rays. * "Michael" means "Who is as God." List a moment to the music of the mighty Gabriel's voice, With its message strange and tender, making Mary's heart rejoice. Then on-speed, for sweeter music soon expectant faith shall greet: His who chained another Mary willing captive at His feet. But, let mem'ry first glance backward to the scenes "beneath the sun," How the fairest earthly landscape echoed soon some dying groan. There the old-creation's story, shared between the dismal Three: Sin and Suffering and Sorrow summed that Babel's history. Now the contrast--vain ye listen for one jarring note to fall; For each dweller in that scene's in perfect harmony with all. Joy has here expelled all sadness, perfect peace displaced all fears-- All around that central Throne makes the true "music of the spheres." Now upsoar ye on faith's pinion, leave all creature things behind, And approach yon throne of glory. Love in Light ye there shall find; For with thrill of joy behold One--woman-born--upon that Throne, And, with deepest self-abasement, in _His_ beauties read your own. Joyful scan the glories sparkling from His gracious Head to Feet;, Never one that does not touch some tender chord of memory sweet; And e'en heaven's music lacks till blood-bought ones _their_ voices raise High o'er feebler angel choirs; for richer grace wakes nobler praise. Vain the quest amongst the thronging of the heavenly angel band For one trace of human kinship, for one touch of human hand; 'Mongst those spirits bright, ethereal, "man" would stand a man alone; Higher must he seek for kinship--thought amazing--on God's Throne! Does it not attract your nature, is it not a rest to see One e'en there at glory's summit, yet with human form like thee? Form assumed when love compelled Him to take up your hopeless case, Form He never will relinquish; ever shall it voice His grace. Wondrous grace! thus making heaven but our Father's house prepared; Since, by One who tells God's love, in wounded human form 'tis shared. See, His Head is crowned with glory! yet a glory not distinct From an hour of deepest suffering, and a crown of thorns succinct. Draw still closer, with the rev'rence born of love and holy fear; Look into those tender eyes which have been dimmed with human tear-- Tears in which _ye_ see a glory hidden from th' Angelic powers; Ours alone the state that caused them, their beauty then alone is ours.