She was my idol--O my God! Have angel hearts above, Through their long line of endless life, Such depth of power to love, As that with which I folded close, My tender, trusting dove? It was not long, for when the flowers Upon the green hill-side Closed their bright eyes to wake no more, My own sweet darling died. The angels oped the shining door, And called her from my side. O, when they laid her form to rest Beneath the churchyard sod, I longed to follow in the way Her angel feet had trod; For, crushed and bruised, my spirit yearned To hide itself in God. Love led me to the inner depth, Which sorrow had unsealed, And there I saw the wealth of power Within my soul concealed-- In that dark, desolating hour, Life’s meaning stood revealed. _I knew myself_, and knowing this, The power to me was given To bridge across the dark abyss Between my soul and heaven, And gather up the golden link Which seemed so harshly riven. The angel hand of her I loved Was gently laid in mine; She led me, by a path of peace, To Truth’s eternal shrine, Where my glad soul will never cease To worship Love Divine. Thus have I learned how vain are creeds Man’s reason to control; His lesser life supplies its needs From Life’s majestic Whole. _Love_ is the guiding star to _Love_, And _Soul_ must speak to _Soul_. THE ANGEL OF HEALING. “They shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.” FORTH from a region of shadowless calm, Forth from a garden of spices and balm, Came a bright angel, an angel of love, Tenderly bearing a beautiful dove; Soft as the dew-drops his feet pressed the sod, So softly no blossom was bruised as he trod. Down through the realms of the blue summer air, Floated the angel so gentle and fair-- Down to the grief-stricken bosom of earth, Whose children must suffer and sin from their birth-- Down where the tears of the mourner are shed, And wailings of sorrow are heard for the dead. One moment he listened, as voices of pain Came up from the hill-side, the valley and plain; There were voices that pleaded, in accents of grief, For comfort and healing, for hope and relief. “God, help me,” he murmured, soft breathing and low, “To heal all your anguish, ye children of woe.” Then he folded a child to his cherishing breast, And tenderly hushed its complainings to rest. He kissed the pale lids of a mourner’s sad eyes, Till she saw the fair home of her loved in the skies. And sorrow, and anguish, and pain, and distress, Fled away where he entered to comfort and bless.