The world may change from old to new,

From new to old again;

Yet hope and heaven, for ever true,

Within our hearts remain.

2 Hope leads the child to plant the flower,

The man to sow the seed;

Nor leaves fulfillment to her hour—

But prompts again to deed.

3 And ere upon the old man’s dust

The grass is seen to wave,

We look through falling tears, to trust

Hope’s sunshine on the grave.

4 O, no, it is no flattering lure,

No fancy weak or fond,

When hope would bid us rest secure

In better life beyond.

5 Nor love, nor shame, nor grief, nor tears,

Her promise may gainsay;

The voice divine speaks through our years,

To cheer us on our way.