Hope Poem by James McCauley
Hope
When storms arise, and tumults jar,
And wreck this mortal form,
There is a bright, a lovely star,
That shines above the storm.
'Tis hope that buoys our spirits up,
Along the chequer'd way,
And when we drain the bitter cup
It points a brighter day.
Though all the ills of life stand by,
It proffers still to save;
And when the shades of death are nigh,
It looks beyond the grave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/28/2026 7:57:10 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
