Then down I bowed my face, and longed to know mine end. ’Twere very sweet to leave all toil and care And join the blessed ones beyond the tide; And still ’twere sweet beyond compare to wait Till eventide with loved ones here, and share Their weal or woe. Then came a flute-like voice That thrilled the solemn air: “Pursue thy way, Yet humbly walk and watch, and if I come At midnight, or at noon, be ready.” Thus I wish to live, life’s aims subserved to God; And each continued day and hour regard As special gifts to be improved for Him; To wear the girdle of the world about my loins So loosely that a moment will suffice To break the clasp, and lay it down. THE END End of Project Gutenberg's The Angel in the Cloud, by Edwin W. (Wiley) Fuller