Grandma Betty loved her children and grandchildren, but it pained her the way they had turned from the Church. I hope that at least she saw thier quieter, more personal faith in the Divine. I do not know what lies beyond the end, but I hope that it is something wonderous.
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.
-Robert Ingersoll Rand
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