Hope

THE Future is Man's immemorial hymn:
In vain runs the Present a-wasting;

To a golden goal in the distance dim
In life, in death, he is hasting.

The world grows, old, and young, and old,

But the ancient story still bears to be told.

Hope smiles on the Boy from the hour of his birth
To the Youth it gives bliss without limit;

It gleams for Old Age as a star on earth,
And the darkness of Death cannot dim it.

Its rays will gild even fathomless gloom,

When the Pilgrim of Life lies down in the tomb.

Never deem it a Shibboleth phrase of the crowd,

Never call it the dream of a rhymer;
The instinct of Nature proclaims it aloud —

WE ARE DESTINED FOR SOMETHING SUBLIMER.

This truth, which the Witness within reveals,
The purest worshipper deepliest feels.