Anne Bronte

Blessed be Thou for all the joy My soul has felt today! O let its memory stay with me And never pass away! I was alone, for those I loved Were far away from me, The sun shone on the withered grass, The wind blew fresh and free.

Was it the smile of early spring That made my bosom glow? 'Twas sweet, but neither sun nor wind Could raise my spirit so.

Was it some feeling of delight, All vague and undefined? No, 'twas a rapture deep and strong, Expanding in the mind!

Was it a sanguine view of life And all its transient bliss­- A hope of bright prosperity? O no, it was not this!

It was a glimpse of truth divine Unto my spirit given Illumined by a ray of light That shone direct from heaven!

I felt there was a God on high By whom all things were made. I saw His wisdom and his power In all his works displayed.

But most throughout the moral world I saw his glory shine; I saw His wisdom infinite, His mercy all divine.

Deep secrets of his providence In darkness long concealed Were brought to my delighted eyes And graciously revealed.

But while I wondered and adored His wisdom so divine, I did not tremble at his power, I felt that God was mine.

I knew that my Redeemer lived, I did not fear to die; Full sure that I should rise again To immortality.

I longed to view that bliss divine Which eye hath never seen, To see the glories of his face Without the veil between.

While on my lonely couch I lie, I seldom feel myself alone, For fancy fills my dreaming eye With scenes and pleasures of its own. Then I may cherish at my breast An infant's form beloved and fair, May smile and soothe it into rest With all a Mother's fondest care.

How sweet to feel its helpless form Depending thus on me alone! And while I hold it safe and warm What bliss to think it is my own!

And glances then may meet my eyes That daylight never showed to me; What raptures in my bosom rise, Those earnest looks of love to see,

To feel my hand so kindly prest, To know myself beloved at last, To think my heart has found a rest, My life of solitude is past!

But then to wake and find it flown, The dream of happiness destroyed, To find myself unloved, alone, What tongue can speak the dreary void?

A heart whence warm affections flow, Creator, thou hast given to me, And am I only thus to know How sweet the joys of love would be?

Music I love -­ but never strain Could kindle raptures so divine, So grief assuage, so conquer pain, And rouse this pensive heart of mine -­ As that we hear on Christmas morn, Upon the wintry breezes borne. Though Darkness still her empire keep, And hours must pass, ere morning break; From troubled dreams, or slumbers deep, That music kindly bids us wake: It calls us, with an angel's voice, To wake, and worship, and rejoice;

To greet with joy the glorious morn, Which angels welcomed long ago, When our redeeming Lord was born, To bring the light of Heaven below; The Powers of Darkness to dispel, And rescue Earth from Death and Hell.

While listening to that sacred strain, My raptured spirit soars on high; I seem to hear those songs again Resounding through the open sky, That kindled such divine delight, In those who watched their flocks by night.

With them, I celebrate His birth -­ Glory to God, in highest Heaven, Good-will to men, and peace on Earth, To us a Saviour-king is given; Our God is come to claim His own, And Satan's power is overthrown!

A sinless God, for sinful men, Descends to suffer and to bleed; Hell must renounce its empire then; The price is paid, the world is freed, And Satan's self must now confess, That Christ has earned a Right to bless:

Now holy Peace may smile from heaven, And heavenly Truth from earth shall spring: The captive's galling bonds are riven, For our Redeemer is our king; And He that gave his blood for men Will lead us home to God again.

O, let me be alone a while, No human form is nigh. And may I sing and muse aloud, No mortal ear is by. Away! ye dreams of earthly bliss, Ye earthly cares begone: Depart! ye restless wandering thoughts, And let me be alone!

One hour, my spirit, stretch thy wings, And quit this joyless sod, Bask in the sunshine of the sky, And be alone with God!

Why should such gloomy silence reign; And why is all the house so drear, When neither danger, sickness, pain, Nor death, nor want have entered here? We are as many as we were That other night, when all were gay, And full of hope, and free from care; Yet, is there something gone away.

The moon without as pure and calm Is shining as that night she shone; but now, to us she brings no balm, For something from our hearts is gone.

Something whose absence leaves a void, A cheerless want in every heart. Each feels the bliss of all destroyed And mourns the change - but each apart.

The fire is burning in the grate As redly as it used to burn, But still the hearth is desolate Till Mirth and Love with Peace return.

'Twas Peace that flowed from heart to heart With looks and smiles that spoke of Heaven, And gave us language to impart The blissful thoughts itself had given.

Sweet child of Heaven, and joy of earth! O, when will Man thy value learn? We rudely drove thee from our hearth, And vainly sigh for thy return.

Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground With fallen leaves so thickly strown, And cold the wind that wanders round With wild and melancholy moan; There is a friendly roof, I know, Might shield me from the wintry blast; There is a fire, whose ruddy glow Will cheer me for my wanderings past.

And so, though still, where'er I go, Cold stranger-glances meet my eye; Though, when my spirit sinks in woe, Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh;

Though solitude, endured too long, Bids youthful joys too soon decay, Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue, And overclouds my noon of day;

When kindly thoughts, that would have way, Flow back discouraged to my breast; -- I know there is, though far away, A home where heart and soul may rest.

Warm hands are there, that, clasped in mine, The warmer heart will not belie; While mirth, and truth, and friendship shine In smiling lip and earnest eye.

The ice that gathers round my heart May there be thawed; and sweetly, then, The joys of youth, that now depart, Will come to cheer my soul again.

Though far I roam, that thought shall be My hope, my comfort, everywhere; While such a home remains to me, My heart shall never know despair!

How brightly glistening in the sun The woodland ivy plays! While yonder beeches from their barks Reflect his silver rays. That sun surveys a lovely scene From softly smiling skies; And wildly through unnumbered trees The wind of winter sighs:

Now loud, it thunders o'er my head, And now in distance dies. But give me back my barren hills Where colder breezes rise;

Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees Can yield an answering swell, But where a wilderness of heath Returns the sound as well.

For yonder garden, fair and wide, With groves of evergreen, Long winding walks, and borders trim, And velvet lawns between;

Restore to me that little spot, With grey walls compassed round, Where knotted grass neglected lies, And weeds usurp the ground.

Though all around this mansion high Invites the foot to roam, And though its halls are fair within -- Oh, give me back my HOME!

Eternal Power, of earth and air! Unseen, yet seen in all around, Remote, but dwelling everywhere, Though silent, heard in every sound. If e'er thine ear in mercy bent, When wretched mortals cried to Thee, And if, indeed, Thy Son was sent, To save lost sinners such as me:

Then hear me now, while, kneeling here, I lift to thee my heart and eye, And all my soul ascends in prayer, Oh, give me -­ give me Faith! I cry.

Without some glimmering in my heart, I could not raise this fervent prayer; But, oh! a stronger light impart, And in Thy mercy fix it there.

While Faith is with me, I am blest; It turns my darkest night to day; But while I clasp it to my breast, I often feel it slide away.

Then, cold and dark, my spirit sinks, To see my light of life depart; And every fiend of Hell, methinks, Enjoys the anguish of my heart.

What shall I do, if all my love, My hopes, my toil, are cast away, And if there be no God above, To hear and bless me when I pray?

If this be vain delusion all, If death be an eternal sleep, And none can hear my secret call, Or see the silent tears I weep!

Oh, help me, God! For thou alone Canst my distracted soul relieve; Forsake it not: it is thine own, Though weak, yet longing to believe.

Oh, drive these cruel doubts away; And make me know, that Thou art God! A faith, that shines by night and day, Will lighten every earthly load.

If I believe that Jesus died, And, waking, rose to reign above; Then surely Sorrow, Sin, and Pride, Must yield to Peace, and Hope, and Love.

And all the blessed words He said Will strength and holy joy impart: A shield of safety o'er my head, A spring of comfort in my heart.