No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere : I see Heaven's glories shine, And Faith shines equal, arming me from Fear. O God within my breast, Almighty, ever-present Deity ! Life, that in me has rest, As I, undying Life, have power in Thee ! Vain are the thousand creeds That move men's hearts : unutterably vain ; Worthless as withered weeds, Or idlest froth amid the boundless main, To waken doubt in one Holding so fast by Thy infinity, So surely anchored on The steadfast rock of Immortality. With wide-embracing love Thy Spirit animates eternal years, Pervades and broods above, Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears. Though earth and moon were gone, And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee. There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void : Thou —
OU art Being and Breath, And what
OU art may never be destroyed.
No coward soul is mine (Jan. 2, 1846)Charlotte Brontë notes, "The following are the last lines my sister Emily ever wrote.
