Only prints of the nails and spear
Are left to remind that host,
Only prints on a one most dear
Who loved to the uttermost.

This is all that is left to show
That mighty angelic throng.
Only prints but the angels know
And burst in enraptured song.

Only prints, God would not erase,
Only that token of love,
But now it cheers each beings face
That glitter as stars above.

Only prints and all else is calm,
That sign of redeeming love,
Glad beings rehearse it there in psalm
In glory to God above.

H. E. Crane