When Hope was born she filled our lives with joy,
A gift from God we loved and loved her more.
Our Hope was beauty nothing could destroy,
Angelic in our arms while we’d adore
Her perfect mouth and dream of songs she’d sing,
Her perfect eyes reflecting Perfect Light,
Her perfect hands, the flowers they would bring;
Our perfect Hope was promise, pure and bright.
But Hope was lost beyond our deepest grief,
And promise bright and pure was veiled in black.
Our Hope was stolen by the mortal thief,
And all our tears could never bring her back.
But Hope has found perfection’s perfect place;
In Christ our Hope’s alive by Godly Grace.