Poem by Anne Brontë

A Prayer

My God (oh, 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.

Not only for the Past I grieve,
The Future fills me with dismay;
Unless Thou hasten to relieve,
Thy suppliant is a castaway.

I cannot say my faith is strong,
I dare not hope my love is great;
But strength and love to Thee belong;
Oh, do not leave me desolate!

I know I owe my all to Thee;
Oh, TAKE the heart I cannot give!
Do Thou my strength--my Saviour be,
And MAKE me to Thy glory live. 

1. Oh, They have Robbed Me of The Hope
2. Severed And Gone
3. Lines Written From Home
4. In Memory of a Happy Day in February
5. Retirement

Ada Cambridge (Cross) A Prayer ("Spirit and Breath of Life, whate'er Thy name!")

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