Time's sorrows will not always last,
This vale of tears will soon be past.
Hope darts a ray to light death's gloom,
And smooths the passage to the tomb;
Hope is to weary mortals given,
To lead them to the joys of heaven
Then, when earth's scenes, however dear,
From thy dim sight shall disappear—
When sinks the pulse, and fails the eye,
Then on Hope's pinions shall thy spirit fly