The Angel of Patience

-by J.G. Whittier

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 learns us to endure.

Angel of Patience ! sent to calm
Our feverish brow 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.

Oh, thou who mournest on thy way,
With longings for the close of day !
He walks with thee, -that angel kinds,-
And gently whispers, “Be resigned !
Bear up, bear on,-the end shall tell
The dear Lord ordereth all things well.”