Hope On.
The ceaseless rain sweeps on
Over the darkening sea ;
The ceaseless wind is rushing by—
What is all to me ?
I sit alone in the house,
Where, some short years ago,
We each were bright, and happy, and young—
And has all ended so ?
There is nothing to care for now ;
There is nothing to hope or fear ;
There is only left of all the past
The memory of those who were.
Over the distant lands
The graves rise here and there ;
And I, sad sitting here alone,
Can only fancy where.
Oh, peace, rebellious heart !
Heaven is bright above :
There is thy home, there are thy hopes,
And there are those you love !
Is there nothing to care for now ?
Sickness, and sorrow, and sin ;
Are there not these to soothe or to stay ?
Is there not Heaven to win ?