When Angels Danced
A POEM
When angels danced on heads of pins
The ways of men were means not ends;
When God was mystery
And not an artifact of history;
When higher criticism had not yet won
Believers from the ranks to man its guns;
When science had not pontificated
And ruled that God was obliterated —
Then man with the eye of faith saw
The splendor of the singing spheres
And recognized this tiny ball
Was but part of the cosmic dance
Participating in the All in All
And knew then whence his sustenance.
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