The Younger Angels
Yonder roses, from the holy
Hands of penitents so lowly,
Help’d to render us victorious,
And to do the deed all-glorious;
For they gain’d us this soul-treasure.
Evil ones those roses banish’d,
Devils, when we met them, vanish’d.
Spirits felt love’s pangs with pleasure,
Where hell’s torments used to dwell;
E’en the hoary king of hell
Felt sharp torments through him run.
Shout for joy! the prize is won.