The Narrow Way
Believe not those who
The upward path is smooth,
Lest thou shouldst stumble in the way,
And faint before the truth.
It is the only
Unto the realms of joy;
But he who seeks that blest
Must all his powers employ.
Bright hopes and pure
Upon his course may beam,
And there, amid the sternest heights,
The sweetest flowerets gleam.
On all her breezes borne,
Earth yields no scents like those;
But he that dares not gasp the
Should never crave the rose.
Arm—arm thee for the fight!
Cast useless loads away;
Watch through the darkest hours of night;
Toil through the hottest day.
Crush pride into the dust,
Or thou must needs be slack;
And trample down rebellious lust,
Or it will hold thee back.
Seek not thy honour here;
Waive pleasure and renown;
The world's dread scoff undaunted bear,
And face its deadliest frown.
To labour and to love,
To pardon and endure,
To lift thy heart to God above,
And keep thy conscience pure;
Be this thy constant aim,
Thy hope, thy chief delight;
What matter who should whisper
Or who should scorn or slight?
What matter, if thy God approve,
And if, within thy breast,
Thou feel the comfort of His love,
The earnest of His rest?
Anne Bronte
Other author posts
To Cowper
Sweet are thy strains, celestial Bard; And oft, in childhood's years, I've read them o'er and o'er again, With floods of silent tears
Last Lines
A dreadful darkness closes On my bewildered mind; O let me suffer and not sin, Be tortured yet resigned
The Consolation
Though bleak these woods and damp the With fallen leaves so thickly strewn, And cold the wind that wanders With wild and melancholy moan,
My Soul is Awakened
My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring, And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze; For, above, and around me, the wild wind is roaring Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas The long withered grass in the sunshine is glanc...