There Is a Blessed Hope
By George E. Tack
EARTH'S philosophers and wise men
Live their little day, and then
Back to dust they turn, and ages
Pass ere they shall wake again. Great men rise unto the summit
Of earth's glory and its power,
But they can not stay the clock-stroke
Of time's solemn, fateful hour. Fools may laugh and gaily dance
As they flit among the flowers
In life's dewy, fragrant gardens;
But at death's frost, how each cowers. And the sands of life forever
Flow, like man, forever down;
And earth's hopes but grow and perish,
Like the leaves that wax so brown. Yet there is a hope that ever,
Like the fadeless Tree of Life,
Blooms all seasons for the peaceful
Dwellers 'mid earth's din and strife. 'Tis the hope that past life's sorrows,
In the land of endless day,
We shall meet our loved departed,
And all tears be wiped away. There, 'mid scenes of joy and gladness,
We shall dwell with Him who died
That we all might be forgiven,
And in realms of peace abide.