Emily Dickenson writes about hope …
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
I would not have characterized hope as a bird … but I love the phrase, “and sweetest in the gale is heard.” The scripture says … Christ in me, the hope of glory … and with Christ in me, I can do all things …
I found this old hymn … an unfamiliar one … but one whose words emphasize the hope that is ours!
Have we any hope within us of a life beyond the grave,
In the sweet and vernal lands?
Do we know if this, our tabernacle, were to be dissolved,
We’ve a house not made with hands?
Blessed hope we have within us is an anchor to the soul,
It is both steadfast and sure;
It is founded on the promises of Father’s written word,
And ’twill evermore endure.
Hope has brought us through the dangers and temptations of the past,
And we fear not those to come;
By her blessings we’ll go forward, while our mortal life shall last,
Then we’ll joyously go home.
Since we’ve walked the strait and narrow way our path has ever shone
Brighter, brighter, day by day;
Hope within our hearts assures us it is better farther on,
It is brighter all the way.
Life will end in joyful singing, “I have fought a faithful fight,”
Then we’ll lay our armor down;
And our soul will break the cable here, and take its happy flight,
To possess a starry crown.
We have a hope within our souls,
Brighter than the perfect day:
God has given us His Spirit,
And we want the world to hear it,
All the doubts are passed away.
Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD.
