Thine is the hope that knows no fear,
The patient heart and true;
Whose wrongs but make the right more dear,
Whose love no loss may rue.
Sometimes a soft and sad surprise—
A pitying angel, passion free,
Looks earthward, from thy tender eyes,
Upon our frail humanity.
Thy calm brow speaks a nature true,
A marble constancy of soul,
A heart that can its dreams subdue
To wisdom's passionless control.
Thine eye hath the serenity
By Raphael to the virgin given,
And from its blue benignity
Looks out the holy light of heaven.