Classic Poem

On Mamre's plain, beside the Patriarch's door
The ministering Angels sat — the world was young,
And men beheld what they behold no more.
Ah no! — The harps of Heaven are not unstrung!
The angelic visitants may yet appear
To those who seek them! — Lo! at Virtue's side,
Its friend, its prop, its solace, and its guide,
Walks Faith , with upturned eyes and voice of cheer,
A visible Angel. Lo, at Sorrow's call,
Hope hastens down, an angel fair and kind,
And whispers comfort whatsoe'er befall;
While C HARITY , the seraph of the mind,
White-robed and pure, becomes each good man's guest,
And makes this Earth a Heaven to all who love her best.