Poetry Archives

Tenderest Herald of the sky,
   Nature’s safeguard from perdition,
Friend of sweet, tho’ tearful eye,
   Call’d by angels meek Contrition—

Bid me with a due concern
    Sigh for recollected error,
And to purer conduct turn,
   Full of hope, and free from terror!

All, who have thy succour tried.
   Near to Heaven’s expanding portal,
Blessing Thee, their chosen guide,
   Joy, in ceasing to be mortal.

Hand-maid of the Saviour’s throne,
    Sent by Him to check depression,
Make my chasten’d soul thy own,
   Guarding it from all transgression.