Oh, man must dream of gladness wherever his pathways
lead,
And a hint of something better is written in every
creed;
And nobody wakes at morning but hopes ere the day
is o’er
To have come to a richer pleasure than ever he’s
known before.
For man is a dreamer ever. He glimpses the hills
afar
And plans for the joys off yonder where all his to-morrows
are;
When trials and cares beset him, in the distance he
still can see
A hint of a future splendid and the glory that is
to be.
There’s never a man among us but cherishes dreams
of rest;
We toil for that something better than that which
is now our best.
Oh, what if the cup be bitter and what if we’re
racked with pain?
There are wonderful days to follow when never we’ll
grieve again.
Back of the sound of the hammer, and back of the hissing
steam,
And back of the hand at the throttle is ever a lofty
dream;
All of us, great or humble, look over the present
need
To the dawn of the glad to-morrow which is promised
in every creed.