| If Michael, leader of God’s host |
| When Heaven and Hell are met, |
| Looked down on you from Heaven’s door-post |
| He would his deeds forget. |
| Brooding no more upon God’s wars |
| In his divine homestead, |
| He would go weave out of the stars |
| A chaplet for your head. |
| And all folk seeing him bow down, |
| And white stars tell your praise, |
| Would come at last to God’s great town, |
| Led on by gentle ways; |
| And God would bid His warfare cease, |
| Saying all things were well; |
| And softly make a rosy peace, |
| A peace of Heaven with Hell. |