By Charles Sangster



     A gentle messenger is Hope; a trusty friend,
     That finds in every breast a welcome home.
     Room for the Angel! let her radiant wings
     Surround me evermore.  The syren flings
     Her magic mantle o’er me, and I roam


     Through sunny realms that seemeth without end.
     Onward and upward on Hope’s rosy pinions
     My thoughts are borne.  What visions can transcend
     The wondrous view of these her fair dominions,
     Extending everywhere! Above—below,


     Where’er she smiles, the landscape wears a glow
     Of calm serenity.  Her skill doth blend
     Heaven’s hues with those of earth.  Weak and undone
Were man, without this gift of the Eternal One. [Page 233]