Last Words (Anne Brontë)

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Last Words
by Anne Brontë

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.

This work was published before January 1, 1928, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.