Angels' Songs from the Golden City of the Blessed

The Verses and Writings in this Book have been given to me by inspiration from the Spiritual World, and come instantaneously in different ways -- sometimes my hand is guided rapidly in the writing -- sometimes a great light seems to shine around me and I hear strains of music and Voices, as of Angel Choirs, singing the words, which I write down; and other times the Visions appear before me, and I hear the Voices.

One of the poems she received in this way was "Zeppelin Raids":

ZEPPELIN RAIDS

A little home in England

   Held so much peace and joy,

For a mother's love did ever guard

   Her bright-eyed winsome boy--

A little lad, whose four short years

   Were spent upon this earth,

In baby prattle, fond and sweet,

   And wide-eyed childish mirth.

And as each night he prayed

   To Lord God on His Throne,

He would clasp his dimpled fingers,

   And whisper, "Jesus, bless my home!

And dear Jesus, bless my Daddy,

   He's a soldier-man far away,

He's gone to fight for Mother,

   And he told me to always pray

And ask You to bless every one,

   And all the people across the sea--

'Cause Daddy says they've little girls,

   And little boys just like!"

But as the child was praying,

   And the Angels stood listening by--

A Zeppelin stealthily glided

   Through the calm, clear English sky,

And hurled a treacherous bomb--

   Which crushed the child's fair head--

And in the stricken mother's arms

   Her beautiful boy lay dead!

And she would sit and gaze for hours,

   In agony dumb and wild,

And kiss a lock of his golden hair--

   All that she had of her child!

Another home in England,

   With its climbing roses sweet,

And its rooms which echoed always

   With the tramp of children's feet.

A hearthfire blazing cheerily,

   And a mother kind and fair,

Who would gather her children around her,

   And offer to God a prayer.

For the Husband who was fighting

   For his Country, that no more

Should Germany ever threaten

   His own loved British shore.

And the Zeppelin stealthily glided

   Through the calm, peaceful air,

And dropped a bomb on the little home--

   And killed the mother at prayer!

The children screamed in terror,

   And the neighbors came at their cry--

But the mother's body was shattered--

   She had gone to God on high!

And every day the Children

   Would wander far and wide,

And call in grief for their Mother--

   They longed to be at her side!

And in letters which they wrote daily,

   They childishly would say--

"Dear God, won't you give us our Mother?

   She was killed--so you took her away!"

And they would gaze up at the cloudless sky,

   And whisper, "Mother might be there today!

She'd come, if she knew how lonesome we are,

   With no one to kiss our tears away!"

A Hospital of wounded,

   Where the sick and dying lay,

Who turned and twisted in their pain,

   And suffered from day to day.

And the Zeppelin stealthily glided

   Through the calm, peaceful sky,

And dropped great bombs on the helpless--

   Ere they could utter a cry!

The tortured mangled bodies

   Lay quivering in their pain--

Till the Angels took their Spirits

   To God's Land--where Love does reign!

And the Zeppelin stealthily hurried

   From the just British ire,

And returned unto their [sic] Fatherland--

   Where they plotted new murders dire.

And they were hailed as heroes

   And was given an Iron Cross[?],

And thirsted new laurels to seek!

But God has His Day of Reckoning[?],

   Each deed appears on Life's Book--

The Iron Cross will not avail them,

   When on the Great Judge they look!

For the poor helpless ones murdered,

   With no chance their lives to save,

Shall stand and accuse them at the Throne--

   In the Judgment beyond the Grave!