If We Could Know

If we could know in times of grief

How near God’s an­gels come

Our hearts would greet

with sweet re­lief

These mes­sen­gers from home

These mes­sen­gers from home.

O’er all our ways His charge they keep

Nor min­is­ter in vain;

And if we wake

or if we sleep

Swift flies the heav’n­ly train

Swift flies the heav’n­ly train.

With si­lent tread they camp around

To guard his child­ren dear

Nor e’en a stone up­on the ground

To harm them shall ap­pear

To harm them shall ap­pear.