A smile from the future to cheer;
And the eye that would gaze on the morrow,
Is constrain’d to gaze on through a tear—
Even then there’s a hope that can brighten
The soul in its darksome abode,
That can dry up its sorrow, and lighten,
The weight of its wearisome load:
’Tis the hope which no joy can heighten,
That leads it to trust in its God.
Though the world to our griefs may be ever