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"Peter, therefore, was kept in prison,—but prayer was made, without ceasing, of the Church unto God for him."—Acts xii. 5.

slept between two soldiers, bound with chains, Waiting the hour, when wily Herod's hand Should point his martyr-doom. Yet still, he slept, Peaceful as the young babe. And lo! a light Gleam'd o'er the dungeon-darkness, and a voice Not of this earth, poured forth the high command, "Peter,—arise." Then the investing chains Melted from off his limbs, and he arose And rob'd himself, and girt his sandals on, And follow'd where the wondering messenger Guided, with shining track. The iron gate, That guarded portal of the City's wall, As if it knew Heaven's high ambassador, Turn'd on its massy hinge. So, on they past, Free and unquestion'd, till the seraph's wing Outspread, in parting flight. With snowy trace Awhile it hover'd,—then, like radiant star From its bright orbit loos'd, went soaring up, High o'er the arch of night. Then Peter knew The Angel of the Lord,—for he had deem'd Some blessed vision held his tranced sight, In strange illusion. With the voice of praise, His joyous steps a well known threshhold sought, The home of Mary. Midnight reign'd around, And heavy sleep hung o'er Jerusalem.