Through Heaven's gate they all must pass to find it,
Where Peter with the key
Keeps watch and warns the little angels kindly
How good they all must be.

They must not fly about or run too quickly,
Nor go too far away,
And when upon his golden key he calls them,
Then they must all obey.

One day it was so very hot in Heaven
That good St. Peter slept,
And when the little angel children saw it,
Away they quickly crept.

Ah! then they ran and flew about with laughter,
And fluttered far and wide,
So far they wandered that of Heaven's meadow
They reached the other side.

They came to where the strong, tall, wooden paling
Shuts all that place away,
Where idle, careless, mischief-loving, naughty,
The Imps of Darkness stray.

And there the angels stopped, devoutly wishing
Some opening there might be,
So that they might each one in turn peep through it,
And see what they could see.

But not a chink or hole, for all their seeking,
No gleam of light pierced through,
So with their little wings outspread and eager,
Right to the top they flew.

And looking down they saw with awe and wonder.
Imps all as black as soot;
Each had two horns and each a tail to play with,
And hoof, instead of foot.

They heard the rustle of the angel feathers,
They felt the cool sweet air,
And, lifting up their little coal-black faces,
They saw Heaven's children there.

Then with one voice they cried: "Oh! angel Children,
You look so good and fair,
We pray you, let us come up into Heaven
And play a little there.

"We will not tweak nor pull your shining feathers,
But be so very good;
We will not try and steal your little halos,
But all do as we should."

Then quick they flew away for Jacob's ladder,
(Peter was still asleep),
And placed it safely, where from Heaven to Imp-land
The way was dark and steep.

Then every little imp, with shouts and laughter,
Helped by an angel's hand,
Scrambled right over the great wooden paling,
And stood in Heaven's land.

They all, with air sedate and pious faces,
Discreetly walked around,
Their tails like trains upon their arms upholding,
And eyes upon the ground.

The little angels fluttered round in rapture,
And showed the lovely flowers,
And bade them listen to the thrilling voices
Of birds in Heaven's bowers.