The Seraph Poem by Michael Walker

Would the seraph place the flaming coal
Upon my tongue, if I opened my lips?
For everything that can defile the soul
Comes from the mouth, rather than what it sips.

His wings of fire shield his face from me,
And yet I hear the music of his voice;
An intelligent essence none can see,
Except for one for whom it is no choice.

No strange language conjures an angel here;
No scientist nor soldier knows his name,
For by his own accord does he appear,
And nobody but God can know his aim.

O servant of celestial order,
Save me from terrestrial torpor.