These angels are still in the world as the ministers of God, though
invisible to mortal eyes. We see the firefly only through the little
luminous section of its flight, but it still flies on after it ceases to
be visible. So we see these angels only through that shining section of
their path in which they waited on Jesus; but they are still flying
through the world as invisible spirits. The angels of little ones are
always before the face of their Father in heaven, and as they bore the
spirit of Lazarus to Abraham's bosom, so they still may bear departing
spirits up the shining stairway of the stars to the eternal home. We
know not in what wide ways they minister to us; how there is a rush of
angel wings to the cradle of every new-born babe; how they constantly
pitch their tents around us in the viewless fields of air; and how often
they bear us up lest we dash our feet against a stone.

How little we know of the world in which we live! We weigh its rocks and
grind them up and melt them in our crucibles; we fling our nets through
all space and catch the stars; and when we can find nothing more to
measure and analyze we think we have found and explained all. But the
finest and best things cannot be grasped by these coarse processes.
Sunbeams cannot be weighed on hay-scales, and gorgeously-colored bits of
cloud cannot be caught in a crucible. We can weigh the new-born baby,
but not the mother's love for her child. A telescope cannot see an
angel, though millions of them may be flying across its field of vision.
There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our
philosophy. In our blind materialism we need to have our eyes opened
that we may know that this universe, which often seems so empty and dark
to us, is a blazing sea of spiritual splendor in which burning suns
float as black specks and which is thronged with troops of angels that
do the will of God and wait on us.