Sear'd with the iron of tyrant fears:--
Is there a break in Life's gloomy sky?
Can the heart reach it before it die?
The path is weary, the desert wide,
And Sorrow stalks by the pilgrim's side--
Oh for a draught of Hope's crystal tide
To cheer the parch'd and fainting one,
Until his toilsome race be run,
And the bright mirage fall from the sky,
Displaced by a sweet reality.
Brim up Life's chalice--pour in! pour in!
Pour in Hope!

Life's chalice is empty--pour in! pour in!
What?--Pour in Faith!
What is Life's fabric, so nobly plann'd,
Its stately dome, and its ramparts grand,
If their foundation rest on the sand,
Ready to shift with Time's ebbing stream,
And melt away like a gorgeous dream?
God! let us trust Thee in very sooth,
Feel that the visions, the dreams of youth,
Its glorious hopes are all based on Truth;--
Thus shall the purpose of Life grow clear;
Love shall be freed from the bondage of fear;
And the soul calmly await the morrow
Untroubled by visions of coming sorrow.
Brim up Life's chalice--pour in! pour in!
Pour in Faith!