Just What Are We To Make of the Angelic

Just what are we to make of the angelic, Afresh from battle, bearers of good news? A construct quaint, a worn-out, ancient relic Of bygone days the church just needs to lose? No infant cherubs splashing 'mid fresh founts,  Limbs delicate and mirthful in the sun, Scripture portrays more ominous accounts: Isaiah, David, Daniel, all undone. They barred up Eden's door with flaming sword, Of Balaam, made an ass ere he did heed, And, most feared, came avenging for the LORD. But when the host proclaimed God as our need, The tides they brought, of joy, not dread or fear, With one great voice announced, "The King is here!”