XII. Footsteps of Angels (Autumn Suite)
Mary Bichner
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When the hours of Day are numbered And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered To a holy, calm delight Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door The beloved, the true-hearted Come to visit me once more With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine Takes the vacant chair beside me Lays her gentle hand in mine And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes Like the stars, so still and saint-like Looking downward from the skies Uttered not, yet comprehended Is the spirit's voiceless prayer Soft rebukes, in blessings ended Breathing from her lips of air Oh, though oft depressed and lonely All my fears are laid aside If I but remember only Such as these have lived and died!
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