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IF Michael, leader of God's host

When Heaven and Hell are met,

Looked down on you from Heaven's door-post

He would his deeds forget.

Brooding no more upon God's wars

In his divine homestead,

He would go weave out of the stars

A chaplet for your head.

And all folk seeing him bow down,

And white stars tell your praise,

Would come at last to God's great town,

Led on by gentle ways;

And God would bid His warfare cease,

Saying all things were well;

And softly make a rosy peace,

A peace of Heaven with Hell.

