Last Lines by Anne Bronte — Stanza

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Last Lines

Jan 7th

A dreadful darkness closes in

On my bewildered mind;

O let me suffer and not sin,

Be tortured yet resigned.

Through all this world of whelming mist

Still let me look to Thee,

And give me courage to resist

The Tempter till he flee.

Weary I am, O give me strength

And leave me not to faint;

Say Thou wilt comfort me at length

And pity my complaint.

I've begged to serve Thee heart and soul,

To sacrifice to Thee

No niggard portion, but the whole

Of my identity.

I hoped amid the brave and strong

My portioned task might lie,

To toil amid the labouring throng

With purpose pure and high.

But Thou hast fixed another part,

And Thou hast fixed it well;

I said so with my breaking heart

When first the anguish fell.

For Thou hast taken my delight

And hope of life away,

And bid me watch the painful night

And wait the weary day.

The hope and the delight were Thine;

I bless Thee for their loan;

I gave Thee while I deemed them mine

Too little thanks, I own.

Shall I with joy Thy blessings share

And not endure their loss?

Or hope the martyr's crown to wear

And cast away the cross?

These weary hours will not be lost,

These days of passive misery,

These nights of darkness anguish tost

If I can fix my heart on Thee.

Weak and weary though I lie,

Crushed with sorrow, worn with pain,

Still I may lift to Heaven mine eyes

And strive and labour not in vain,

That inward strife against the sins

That ever wait on suffering;

To watch and strike where first begins

Each ill that would corruption bring,

That secret labour to sustain

With humble patience every blow,

To gather fortitude from pain

And hope and holiness from woe.

Thus let me serve Thee from my heart

Whatever be my written fate,

Whether thus early to depart

Or yet awhile to wait.

If Thou shouldst bring me back to life

More humbled I should be;

More wise, more strengthened for the strife,

More apt to lean on Thee.

Should Death be standing at the gate

Thus should I keep my vow;

But, Lord, whate'er my future fate

So let me serve Thee now.

Finished. Jan. 28, 1849.