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 chilliest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me. by Emily Dickinson No matter how dark, painful, or numb one's world may seem, reach out to Christ who truly is the glimmer of hope perching in our souls.