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