III. Edmund Spenser

AND is there care in heaven? And is there love

In heavenly spirits to these creatures bace,

That may compassion of their evils move?

There is: else much more wretched were the cace

Of men then beasts. But O! th’ exceeding grace

Of Highest God, that loves his creatures so,

And all his workes with mercy doth embrace,

That blessed angels he sends to and fro,

To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe!

How oft do they their silver bowers leave

To come to succour us that succour want!

How oft do they with golden pineons cleave

The flitting skyes, like flying pursuivant,

Against fowle feendes to ayd us militant!

They for us fight, they watch and dewly ward,

And their bright squadrons round about us plant;

And all for love and nothing for reward:

O, why should Hevenly God to men have such regard!