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Poem by Anne Brontë
I have gone backward in the work, The labour has not sped, Drowsy and dark my spirit lies, Heavy and dull as lead. How can I rouse my sinking soul From such a lethargy? How can I break these iron chains, And set my spirit free? There have been times when I have mourned, In anguish o'er the past; And raised my suppliant hands on high, While tears fell thick and fast, And prayed to have my sins forgiven With such a fervent zeal, An earnest grief --- a strong desire That now I cannot feel! And vowed to trample on my sins, And called on Heaven to aid My spirit in her firm resolves And hear the vows I made. And I have felt so full of love, So strong in spirit then, As if my heart would never cool Or wander back again. And yet, alas! how many times My feet have gone astray, How oft have I forgot my God, How greatly fallen away! My sins increase, my love grows cold, And Hope within me dies, And Faith itself is wavering now, O how shall I arise! I cannot weep but I can pray, Then let me not despair; Lord Jesus, save me lest I die, And hear a wretch's prayer.
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