I saw one weary, sad, and torn,
With
eager steps press on the way,
Who
long the hallowed cross had borne,
Still
looking for the promised day;
While
many aline of grief and care,
Upon
his brow was furrowed there;
I
asked what buoyed his spirits up,
“O
this!” said he– “the blessed hope.”
2
And
one I saw, with sword and shield,
Who
boldly braved the world’s cold frown,
And
fought, unyielding on the field,
To
win an everlasting crown.
Though
worn with toil, oppressed by foes,
No
murmur from his heart arose;
I
asked what buoyed spirits up,
“O
this!” said he– “the blessed hope.”
3
And
there was one who left behind
The
cherished friends of early years,
And
honor, pleasure, wealth resigned,
To
tread the path bedewed with tears.
Through
trials deep and conflicts sore,
Yet
still a smile of joy he wore;
I
asked what buoyed spirits up,
“O
this!” said he– “the blessed hope.”
4
While
pilgrims here we journey on
In
this dark vale of sin and gloom,
Through
tribulation, hate, and scorn,
Or
through the portals of the tomb,
Till
our returning King shall come
To
take His exile captives home,
O!
What can buoy the spirits up?
‘Tis
this alone– “the blessed hope.