Veiled was the tender glory of His face,
In cloud, and smoke, and flame,
On Horeb’s mount, in Sinai’s desert place,
When God to Moses came.

So should we meet great sorrows when they come,
Ambassadors from God;
Not as weak children, standing pale and dumb,
And shrinking from the rod.

If we in faith our entrance-door unbar,
Their faces half divine,
Lit up as with the radiance of a star,
Across our threshold shine.

What though the flowers we loved beneath the feet
Are trodden down to earth?
A brighter verdure, and a bloom more sweet,
Comes after wintry dearth.

But we, faint souls! with wakeful eyelids tense,
Do moan all night with grief,
And look through tears, to Heaven’s high battlements,
For signals of relief!

And lo, they come! His light breaks through the skies!
The war-clouds disappear;
And like the prophet’s servant, we arise
To see His angels near!

Caroline Dana Howe
Ashes for Flame, 1885