Dear Angels and dear disembodied Saints

Dear Angels and dear disembodied Saints
Unseen around us, worshipping in rest,
May wonder that man’s heart so often faints
And his steps lag along the heavenly quest,
What while his foolish fancy moulds and paints
A fonder hope than all they prove for best;
A lying hope which undermines and taints
His soul, as sin and sloth make manifest.
Sloth, and a lie, and sin: shall these suffice
The unfathomable heart of craving man,
That heart which being a deep calls to the deep?
Behold how many like us rose and ran
When Christ, life-giver, roused them from their sleep
To rise and run and rest in Paradise!