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