There ran behind the angels' wings <br />An undertone of murmurings, <br /> <br /> <br />Faint, as when sighing autumn grieves, <br />And wrings her palms of wither'd leaves. <br /> <br /> <br />Then God said, as He heard the sound, <br />'Who murmurs?' And He look'd around. <br /> <br /> <br />But never folded pinion stirr'd, <br />Or lip to speak one single word. <br /> <br /> <br />Such silence in the heavens dwelt, <br />The motions of the stars were felt. <br /> <br /> <br />'Who murmurs here?' He ask'd again, <br />With something on His brow like pain. <br /> <br /> <br />At length one trembling angel said, <br />With bending knee and bowing head: <br /> <br /> <br />'We murmur, for we cannot see <br />The earth as it appears to Thee. <br /> <br /> <br />We look, and only see below <br />An endless stretch of human woe.' <br /> <br /> <br />Then God touch'd with his finger-tips, <br />While sunshine clad His brow and lips, <br /> <br /> <br />The doubting angels' eyes, that could <br />See naught on earth that seem'd of good. <br /> <br /> <br />'Look now,' He said, 'and what ye see <br />Turn round, and straightway tell to me.' <br /> <br /> <br />They look'd; one angel from his place <br />Made answer, looking in His face: <br /> <br /> <br />'Father, thine own great purpose runs <br />Round men, as planets round their suns, <br /> <br /> <br />And binds them like a golden band, <br />The end of which is in Thy hand, <br /> <br /> <br />For some great good we cannot see, <br />Yet rooted and full-growth'd in Thee. <br /> <br /> <br />We murmur not; this much we know, <br />Thy shadow falls on men below. <br /> <br /> <br />And all, when truly understood, <br />Is fair and wise, and pure and good.' <br /> <br /> <br />He who can stand upon the earth, <br />And see all things take perfect birth, <br /> <br /> <br />The same hath felt in awed surprise <br />God's fingers laid upon his eyes.<br /><br />Alexander Anderson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-questioning-angels/
