Sunday was St Michael and All Angels in our church’s liturgical tradition. It is also known as Michaelmas. One of my favorite hymns, “Lord, Thee I love with all my heart,” by Martin Schalling (and set by the likes of Schuetz, Buxtehude, and Bach) features the work of the angels in verse 3:
Lord, let at last Thine angels come,
To Abram’s bosom bear me home,
That I may die unfearing;
And in its narrow chamber keep
My body safe in peaceful sleep
Until Thy reappearing.
And then from death awaken me
That these mine eyes with joy may see,
O Son of God, Thy glorious face,
My Savior and my Fount of grace,
Lord Jesus Christ,
My prayer attend, my prayer attend,
And I will praise Thee without end.
So, no tubby cherubs firing love arrows, and alas, no Clarence earning his wings by saving George from a watery grave. But, comfort that they perform their work on my behalf.
Here’s what it sounds like:
And the whole hymn:
Angelic, no?
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