Then saith the Lord to his own:—
"See ye the battle below?
Turmoil of death and of birth!
Too long let we them groan.
Haste, arise ye, and go;
Carry my peace upon earth."
Gladly they rise at his call;
Gladly they take his command;
Gladly descend to the plain.
Alas! How few of them all—
Those willing servants—shall stand
In their Master's presence again!
Some in the tumult are lost:
Baffled, bewilder'd, they stray.
Some as prisoners draw breath.
Others—the bravest—are cross'd,
On the height of their bold-follow'd way,
By the swift-rushing missile of Death.
Hardly, hardly shall one
Come, with countenance bright,
O'er the cloud-wrapt, perilous plain:
The “willing servants” appear to be nearly impotent in these lines, victimized by humanity’s cruelty. Even the bravest are “cross’d,” shot down, in an ironic allusion to Christ’s crucifixion. 
 
 Hugo Simberg,  The Wounded Angel  (1903). Ateneum, Helsinki.
Men of Genius