Angel Lena

Through the pearly gates ajar,
Beaming like a little star,
Beautiful as lilies are,
See that lovely baby face
Full of all ethereal grave,
Shining from the Holy Place!

And behold a little hand
Waving, from the portal grand,
Signals to our misty land;
And it beckons down the blue,
Mother, sisters, friends, to you
Recognition, sweet and true!

Heard o’er all the golden choir,—
Pipe and timbrel, voice and lyre, 
Hymning with seraphic fire,—
Comes a low word sweet and clear,
Through our gloomy atmosphere,
To my listening spirit’s ear.

“Mother! on this holy hill
See! I am your ‘baby’ still.
Love me! O, I know you will!
Sisters! I am sister yet;
Call me still your darling Pet;
Smile on me though eyes be wet.

“Love” (an angel whispers me)
Has white arms ye cannot see,
Clasped around us all, that we 
May be one unbroken band,
Happy, loving, hand in hand,
Marching to her music grand.

“Little children here on high
Have no other wings to fly,
But that Love which cannot die.
This shall guide your heavenward feet,
This shall make life pure and sweet,
And be the heaven wherein we meet.