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* * * My God! O let me call Thee mine! Weak wretched sinner though I be, My trembling soul would fain be Thine, My feeble faith still clings to Thee, My feeble faith still clings to Thee. Not only for the past I grieve, The future fills me with dismay; Unless Thou hasten to relieve, I know my heart will fall away, I know my heart will fall away. I cannot say my faith is strong, I dare not hope my love is great; But strength and love to Thee belong, O, do not leave me desolate! O, do not leave me desolate! I know I owe my all to Thee, O, take this heart I cannot give. Do Thou my Strength my Saviour be; And make me to Thy glory live! And make me to Thy glory live! Anne Brontë's other poems:
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