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HOPE'S ANCHOR.
Laurels for Glory, roses for Love,
Peace has her olive, and Pureness her dove;
Holiness likens the violet sweet,
And modesty's snowdrop blooms at her feet.
Peace has her olive, and Pureness her dove;
Holiness likens the violet sweet,
And modesty's snowdrop blooms at her feet.
All these fair emblems fitting I see,
Yet how is thine anchor an emblem of thee,
Bright one, that heavenward winnest us up,
Sweet one, that blessest earth, soft-smiling Hope?
Yet how is thine anchor an emblem of thee,
Bright one, that heavenward winnest us up,
Sweet one, that blessest earth, soft-smiling Hope?
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Yes, I have seen it, what beauty is there!
The birthday of Hope is the death of Despair:
Lo, the cross stands on the crush'd writhing snake,
And the sign of salvation an anchor doth make.
The birthday of Hope is the death of Despair:
Lo, the cross stands on the crush'd writhing snake,
And the sign of salvation an anchor doth make.
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