The Angel Of Patience

A free paraphrase of the German.     To weary hearts, to mourning homes,     God's meekest Angel gently comes     No power has he to banish pain,     Or give us back our lost again;     And yet in tenderest love, our dear     And Heavenly Father sends him here.     There's quiet in that Angel's glance,     There 's rest in his still countenance!     He mocks no grief with idle cheer,     Nor wounds with words the mourner's ear;     But ills and woes he may not cure     He kindly trains us to endure.     Angel of Patience! sent to calm     Our feverish brows with cooling palm;     To lay the storms of hope and fear,     And reconcile life's smile and tear;     The throbs of wounded pride to still,     And make our own our Father's will.     O thou who mournest on thy way,     With longings for the close of day;     He walks with thee, that Angel kind,     And gently whispers, "Be resigned     Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell     The dear Lord ordereth all things well!"