Immortality and Hope
The idea of immortality, that like a sea has ebbed and flowed in the human heart, with its countless waves of hope and fear, beating against the shores and rocks of time and fate, was not born of any book, nor of any creed, nor of any religion. It was born of human affection, and it will continue to ebb and flow beneath the mists and clouds of doubt and darkness as long as love kisses the lips of death. It is the rainbow – Hope shining upon the tears of grief.
The hope of another life was in the heart, long before the “sacred books” were written, and will remain there long after all the “sacred books” are known to be the work of savage and superstitious men. Hope is the consolation of the world.
The wanderers hope for home. – Hope builds the house and plants the flowers and fills the air with song.
The sick and suffering hope for health. – Hope gives them health and paints the roses in their cheeks.
The lonely, the forsaken, hope for love. – Hope brings the lover to their arms. They feel the kisses on their eager lips.
The poor in tenements and huts, in spite of rags and hunger, hope for wealth. Hope fills their thin and trembling hands with gold.
The dying hopes that death is but another birth, and Love leans above the pallid face and whispers, “We shall meet again.”
Let us hope, if there be a god, that he is wise and good.
Let us hope that if there be another life it will bring peace and joy to all the children of men.
And let us hope that this poor earth on which we live may be a perfect world – a world without a crime – without a tear.
Hope is the only bee that makes honey without flowers.