The Future World

WHERE'ER our pilgrim footsteps stray,
Affliction's poignant shafts are hurl'd,
But angel Hope still chears our way,
She whispers, "there's a future world."
When Death has aim'd some fatal stroke,
Or parting Friendship sighs farewell!
When fond Affection's ties are broke,
The thoughts with tender sorrow dwell
On bliss far fled, till Faith's clear eye
Darts to that world beyond the sky.
When want or woe the breast assails,
Or keen unkindness wounds the soul,
When every earthly comfort fails,
Then as the magnet seeks the pole,
So points the soul to heav'nly joys,
Where want, nor woe, nor grief, nor pain,
Nor Time nor Death her bliss destroys,
But pure unfading transports reign;
In vain o'er earth for happiness we roam,
She rests alone in our eternal home.