Last Lines
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.
