Better Days to Come.
OSCAR H. HARPEL.
JAS. L. ORR.
1. The heart may bend with weight of woe,
And all the world look drear,
While o'er its care-worn paths we go,
With nothing bright to cheer,
Yet in the bosom ever dwells,
Though all things else are dumb are dumb,
A low, sweet voice,
That, whisp'ring, tells
Of better days to come.
The clouds that dim our sky at noon
Shall melt before the sun,
And faith reveal at even tide
The brighter better days to come.
2. Tho' mortal ills may to us cling,
And foul wrongs silence right,
Within the soul be festering,
Some hurt it hides from sight,
Still lit by a celestial spark,
That grow thro' deepest, deepest gloom,
Our yearning eyes may see revealed
The better days to come.
3. There is no evil that can slay
The faith beyond the grave;
There is no might to bar its way,
The spirit dare not brave;
And come what will to stay its wings,
That seek a better home,
Within its depths the spirit sings
Of [brighter, brighter, endless] better days to come.