The hope of all who suffer, The dread of all who wrong.
For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.
All the windows of my heart I open to the day.
The hope of all earnest souls must be realized.
Despair is infidelity and death.
I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.