We go to the grave of a friend saying, "A man is dead," but angels throng about him saying, "A man is born."
We not only live among men, but there are airy hosts, blessed spectators, sympathetic lookers-on, that see and know and appreciate our thoughts and feelings and acts.
It is a man dying with his harness on that angels love to escort upward.
The man who perceives life only with his eye, his ear, his hand, and his tongue, is but little higher than the ox or an intelligent dog; but he who has imagination sees things around and above him, as the angels see them.
The disciples found angels at the grave of Him they loved; and we should always find them too, but that our eyes are too full of tears for seeing.
There are some men's souls that are so thin, so almost destitute of what is the true idea of soul, that were not the guardian angels so keen-sighted, they would altogether overlook them.
There's not much practical Christianity in the man who lives on better terms with angels and seraphs than with his children, servants and neighbours.
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