The world may change from old to new,
From new to old again;
Yet hope and heaven, forever true,
Within man’s heart remain.
The dreams that bless the weary soul,
The struggles of the strong,
Are steps towards some happy goal,
The story of hope’s song.
Hope leads the child to plant the flower,
The man to sow the seed;
Nor leaves fulfilment to her hour,—
But prompts again to deed.
And ere upon the old man’s dust
The grass is seen to wave,
We look through falling tears, to trust
Hope’s sunshine on the grave.
O, no! it is no flattering lure,
No fancy weak or fond,
When hope would bid us rest secure
In better life beyond.
Nor love, nor shame, nor grief, nor sin,
Her promise may gainsay;
The voice divine hath spoke within,
And God did ne’er betray.