Helen Hunt Jackson

(18 October 1830 – 12 August 1885 / Amherst, Massachusetts)

The Angel Of Pain - Poem by Helen Hunt Jackson

Angel of Pain, I think thy face
Will be, in all the heavenly place,
The sweetest face that I shall see,
The swiftest face to smile on me.
All other angels faint and tire;
Joy wearies, and forsakes desire;
Hope falters, face to face with Fate,
And dies because it cannot wait;
And Love cuts short each loving day,
Because fond hearts cannot obey
That subtlest law which measures bliss
By what it is content to miss.
But thou, O loving, faithful Pain-
Hated, reproached, rejected, slain-
Dost only closer cling and bless
In sweeter, stronger steadfastness.
Dear, patient angel, to thine own
Thou comest, and art never known
Till late, in some lone twilight place
The light of thy transfigured face
Sudden shines out, and, speechless, they
Know they have walked with Christ all day.

Comments about The Angel Of Pain by Helen Hunt Jackson

  • Amar Agarwala (10/17/2016 8:23:00 PM)

    Reading Helen Hunt Jackson, for the first time... and I must say that her verses have depth and so much meaning. (Report) Reply

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  • Susan Williams (10/17/2016 2:27:00 PM)

    A topic not addressed very often- -at least I haven't seen poems about the angel of pain. I'm still absorbing her thoughts on this- -my first reaction was negative but the more I sit here contemplating what she has said, the more I see what she is getting at. Definitely a poem I want to read again and again.. (Report) Reply

  • (10/17/2016 10:15:00 AM)

    Inference drawn, Joy is my pal, pain a companion.
    Realities faced by majority wonderfully portrayed. Thanks for sharing it here.
    (Report) Reply

  • Edward Kofi Louis (10/17/2016 4:43:00 AM)

    Joy wearies!
    Smile on me. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. (Report) Reply

Read all 4 comments »

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 25, 2012

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