THE TWO RECORDING ANGELS ASCENDING by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
Two angels are rising to God after spending a day on Earth—one has noted the good deeds, while the other has kept track of the evil ones.
The poem
THE ANGEL OF GOOD DEEDS, with closed book. God sent his messenger the rain, And said unto the mountain brook, "Rise up, and from thy caverns look And leap, with naked, snow-white feet, From the cool hills into the heat Of the broad, arid plain. God sent his messenger of faith, And whispered in the maiden's heart, "Rise up and look from where thou art, And scatter with unselfish hands Thy freshness on the barren sands And solitudes of Death." O beauty of holiness, Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness! O power of meekness, Whose very gentleness and weakness Are like the yielding, but irresistible air! Upon the pages Of the sealed volume that I bear, The deed divine Is written in characters of gold, That never shall grow old, But through all ages Burn and shine, With soft effulgence! O God! it is thy indulgence That fills the world with the bliss Of a good deed like this! THE ANGEL OF EVIL DEEDS, with open book. Not yet, not yet Is the red sun wholly set, But evermore recedes, While open still I bear The Book of Evil Deeds, To let the breathings of the upper air Visit its pages and erase The records from its face! Fainter and fainter as I gaze In the broad blaze The glimmering landscape shines, And below me the black river Is hidden by wreaths of vapor! Fainter and fainter the black lines Begin to quiver Along the whitening surface of the paper; Shade after shade The terrible words grow faint and fade, And in their place Runs a white space! Down goes the sun! But the soul of one, Who by repentance hath escaped the dreadful sentence, Shines bright below me as I look. It is the end! With closed Book To God do I ascend. Lo! over the mountain steeps A dark, gigantic shadow sweeps Beneath my feet; A blackness inwardly brightening With sullen heat, As a storm-cloud lurid with lightning. And a cry of lamentation, Repeated and again repeated, Deep and loud As the reverberation Of cloud answering unto cloud, Swells and rolls away in the distance, As if the sheeted Lightning retreated. Baffled and thwarted by the wind's resistance. It is Lucifer, The son of mystery; And since God suffers him to be, He, too, is God's minister. And labors for some good By us not understood!
Two angels are rising to God after spending a day on Earth—one has noted the good deeds, while the other has kept track of the evil ones. The Angel of Good Deeds holds a sealed book filled with golden writing, while the Angel of Evil Deeds observes the sins it recorded gradually disappear as a soul seeks forgiveness before sunset. The poem concludes with an unexpected twist: even Lucifer, seen as a storm-shadow below, is referred to as God's minister, striving for a good that remains hidden from us.
Line-by-line
God sent his messenger the rain, / And said unto the mountain brook,
God sent his messenger of faith, / And whispered in the maiden's heart,
O beauty of holiness, / Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness!
Not yet, not yet / Is the red sun wholly set,
Fainter and fainter as I gaze / In the broad blaze
Down goes the sun! / But the soul of one,
Lo! over the mountain steeps / A dark, gigantic shadow sweeps
Tone & mood
The tone shifts in two distinct movements. The first half — the Angel of Good Deeds — is warm and celebratory, almost like a hymn, filled with exclamations and vivid golden imagery. The second half — the Angel of Evil Deeds — takes on a more tense and watchful quality, resembling a cinematic experience as it follows the diminishing light and the sins that fade alongside it. By the final stanza, the tone shifts to a quietly awe-struck feeling: seeing Lucifer doesn't evoke horror but rather a solemn sense of wonder. The overall impression is one of deep, confident faith — not naive, but something that's been hard-won.
Symbols & metaphors
- The closed book (Angel of Good Deeds) — A sealed, permanent record of virtue. Since it's already closed, the good deeds within are finished and unchangeable — they are secure with God. The gold writing that "never shall grow old" indicates that true goodness is everlasting.
- The open book (Angel of Evil Deeds) — An unfinished account — still open because the chance for repentance remains. The open book represents mercy: the record of sin isn't set in stone until the day's end. When the Angel finally closes it, that act is one of grace, not judgment.
- The setting sun — A deadline for repentance. As long as the sun hasn't completely set, the Angel of Evil Deeds keeps its book open. The sun represents the dividing line between human choice and divine judgment—a timeless symbol of mortality and the finite nature of earthly existence.
- The mountain brook — A selfless good deed in its natural state. The brook doesn’t decide to water the plain — it just flows where it’s needed. Longfellow uses this imagery to suggest that genuine goodness isn’t forced or self-aware; it’s as natural and unavoidable as water flowing downhill.
- Lucifer as storm-shadow — Evil is portrayed as a vast and terrifying force, yet it remains contained within God's greater order. The storm-cloud imagery — 'lurid with lightning,' 'inwardly brightening' — grants Lucifer power without allowing him true dominion. He is dark, but he is still beneath the ascending Angel.
- White space on the page — The erasure of sin through repentance. As the dark lines of wrongdoing fade, they reveal a blank whiteness — not a void, but a form of cleansing. The page remains; it is refreshed. This is Longfellow's portrayal of what forgiveness truly looks like.
Historical context
Longfellow penned this poem as part of *Tales of a Wayside Inn* (1863), a collection inspired by Chaucer's *Canterbury Tales*, where a group of travelers share stories in verse. The poem is based on a legend from the Talmud about two angels—one that records good deeds and another that notes evil—who accompany each person throughout their life. Longfellow had a deep understanding of European and Middle Eastern religious traditions and often grappled with themes of sin, mercy, and redemption. The 1860s coincided with the American Civil War, a time when many Americans were confronted with urgent questions about evil, suffering, and whether God's plan could include such horrors. Longfellow experienced a profound personal tragedy in 1861 when his wife died in a fire, which infused his theological poetry from this period with a sense of urgency that transcends mere literary expression.
FAQ
Two angels are soaring back to God at the day's end. One keeps track of good deeds, while the other notes down evil deeds. The poem traces their paths — the first angel revels in the lasting glow of goodness, while the second observes sins disappearing from its ledger as a soul repents just before sunset. In a surprising turn, even Lucifer, depicted below, is shown to be serving God's purpose.
The concept originates from Jewish tradition, particularly the Talmud, which talks about two angels — one representing good and the other evil — that follow a person on the Sabbath. Longfellow, aware of this tradition, reinterpreted it within a more Christian context, depicting the angels ascending to God at the end of a single day instead of during the Sabbath.
Because the day isn't over yet. As long as the sun hasn't completely set, there's still time for someone to repent, and repentance wipes the slate clean. Keeping the book open shows mercy — the Angel is allowing every possible moment for a soul to change before the account is finalized.
This is the poem's most daring theological assertion. Longfellow suggests that even evil, including the devil, plays a role in God's greater plan and contributes to some good that we, as humans, cannot completely grasp. It's not about glorifying evil — rather, it highlights the boundaries of human understanding and the vastness of divine providence. The Angel doesn't endorse Lucifer; it merely acknowledges that God 'suffers him to be.'
Longfellow employs the brook as a metaphor before unveiling the true topic. A brook doesn’t choose to water a barren land — it simply flows. The maiden's faith and generosity mirror this: they are natural, effortless, and unstoppable. This comparison suggests that true goodness isn't a struggle or an act; it's as fundamental as water.
The color contrast serves a deeper purpose. Gold is eternal, radiant, and linked to the divine — it 'never shall grow old.' In contrast, black ink can fade, get erased, or wash away. Longfellow suggests that good deeds hold more reality and permanence than evil ones, even if evil seems overpowering at times.
Yes. It appears in *Tales of a Wayside Inn* (1863), a collection of narrative poems by Longfellow featuring stories shared by travelers at an inn, inspired by Chaucer's *Canterbury Tales*. The poem is one of the stories within that framework, based on Talmudic legend.
The poem doesn’t stick to a rigid structure like a sonnet. Instead, Longfellow employs irregular rhyme and varying line lengths, creating a more hymn-like quality that changes rhythm according to the emotional tone of each part. The Angel of Good Deeds section feels spacious and lyrical, while the Angel of Evil Deeds section comes across as more abrupt and urgent, particularly as the sun begins to set.