  M Mother, what are angels made of? Have they feet and hands like ours? Are they things to be afraid of? Do they hide among the flowers? Mary says they are not creatures Made of flesh, and bones, and blood, Though they have the sweetest features, And are glad when we are good. Fanny thinks they’re always roving Here and there on wings of light; Gentle things, all kind and loving, Guarding us by day and night; Made by God to keep from danger Little ones at school or play; Just like those that watched the manger Where the infant Jesus lay. Tell me, mother—dearest mother! Oh, I do so want to know. Susan says that “little brother Is an angel.” Is it so? Darling, this is all that’s told us In the word of Him above, That those beings who behold us, In their unseen arms enfold us, Creatures are of Light and Love. Angels Healing blind men
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