HOPE
Ihavea hope—’tis spirit-bornAnd spirit-winged beside;’Tis like the holy light of mornWhen Heaven opens wide.Hope like the bird whose every noteA loving Father’s handHath tuned within its swelling throatAs though the song were planned!What is it but the joyous senseOf love and harmony?What is it but the evidenceOf life’s divinity?That hope which makes us most divineAnd like to what it clings—That hope which makes our hearts inclineTo higher, holier things—That hope which spells eternal youthAnd goodness infinite—Hath reason in it strong as truthAnd logical as light.
Ihavea hope—’tis spirit-bornAnd spirit-winged beside;’Tis like the holy light of mornWhen Heaven opens wide.Hope like the bird whose every noteA loving Father’s handHath tuned within its swelling throatAs though the song were planned!What is it but the joyous senseOf love and harmony?What is it but the evidenceOf life’s divinity?That hope which makes us most divineAnd like to what it clings—That hope which makes our hearts inclineTo higher, holier things—That hope which spells eternal youthAnd goodness infinite—Hath reason in it strong as truthAnd logical as light.
Ihavea hope—’tis spirit-bornAnd spirit-winged beside;’Tis like the holy light of mornWhen Heaven opens wide.
Ihavea hope—’tis spirit-born
And spirit-winged beside;
’Tis like the holy light of morn
When Heaven opens wide.
Hope like the bird whose every noteA loving Father’s handHath tuned within its swelling throatAs though the song were planned!
Hope like the bird whose every note
A loving Father’s hand
Hath tuned within its swelling throat
As though the song were planned!
What is it but the joyous senseOf love and harmony?What is it but the evidenceOf life’s divinity?
What is it but the joyous sense
Of love and harmony?
What is it but the evidence
Of life’s divinity?
That hope which makes us most divineAnd like to what it clings—That hope which makes our hearts inclineTo higher, holier things—
That hope which makes us most divine
And like to what it clings—
That hope which makes our hearts incline
To higher, holier things—
That hope which spells eternal youthAnd goodness infinite—Hath reason in it strong as truthAnd logical as light.
That hope which spells eternal youth
And goodness infinite—
Hath reason in it strong as truth
And logical as light.