As shines the sunbeam through dark clouds,
Hope breaks the spirit's lowering shrouds
E'en as the morning dawns o'er night,
Hope sheds her radiant, golden light.
Like the soft dew to thirsting flower,
Hope e'er revives the soul's faint hour--
A soothing balm for every grief;
Hope, precious hope, finds sure relief.
The anchor of the tide-bound soul,
With breakers near, while billows roll
Around, about, but ne'er o'erwhelm,
With Hope the anchor, Faith the helm.
Hope, like the olden Shepherd's star,
Telleth her tidings from afar;
And though earth's flowers fade and die,
Hope, Hope revives them in the sky.