Flight of the Angels
They rise up in tornadic flight,
Unleashing scarlet firelight.
They pour it on the coal-cloaked hills,
The bloodless frosts; their lava fills
The starved blue gleam of Winter’s eye
And scalds dawn on the star-cold sky.
Blinding with Hosanna’s might,
Their shadows surge like liquid light.
Thundering ancient trumpets sweet,
They hurl the night from David’s seat—
Awake! the fiery choirs sing;
Adore thy God-Incarnate King!
By Mary Faustina