I'm just placing some "scraps of hope" here on Troy's Work Table for future reference.
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For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.
—PSALM 62:5
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"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet—never—in Eternity,
It asked a crumb—of me.
—Emily Dickinson, 1862
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But faith differs from hope because faith receives in the present the forgiveness of sins and reconciliation, of God's acceptance of us, on account of Christ. But hope is directed toward future good and future deliverance.
—from "Article IV: Justification," Apology of the Augsburg Confession, by Philip Melanchthon, 1531
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But Faith, like a jackal, feeds among the tombs, and even from these dead doubts she gathers her most vital hope.
—from "The Chapel," chapter seven of Moby-Dick, by Herman Melville, 1851
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Oh, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes!
How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn!—from "Untitled," Elegiac Sonnets, by Charlotte Smith, 1783
