De Profundis

I just can't help myself!  Here is another beautiful offering - a confession of faith -  from Ms. Browning:

De Profundis

(a selection from Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

The face which, duly as the sun,

Rose up for me with life begun,

To mark all bright hours of the day

With hourly love, is dimmed away -

And yet my days go on, go on.

The tongue, which, like a stream, could run

Smooth music from the roughest tone,

And every morning with "Good day"

Make each day good, is hushed away -

And yet my days go on, go on.

That heart which, like a staff, was one

For mine to lean and rest upon,

The strongest on the longest day

With steadfast love, is caught away -

And yet my days go on, go on.

The past rolls forward on the sun

And makes all night.  O dreams begun,

Not to be ended!  Ended bliss,

And life that will not end in this!

My days go on, my days go on.

I sit and knock at Nature's door,

Heart-bare, heart-hungry, very poor,

I knock and cry, "Undone, undone!"

Is there no help, no comfort - none?

My vacant days go on, go on.

A Voice reproves me thereupon,

More sweet than Nature's when the drone

Of bees is sweetest, and more deep

Than when rivers overleap

The shuddering pines and thunder on.

God's Voice, not Nature's!  Night and noon

He sits upon the great white throne

And listens for the creature's praise.

What babble we of days and days?

The Day-Spring He, whose days go on.

By anguish which made pale the sun,

I hear Him charge his saints that none

Among His creatures anywhere

Blaspheme against Him with despair,

However darkly days go on.

Take from my head the thorn-wreath brown!

No mortal grief deserves that crown.

O supreme Love, chief misery,

The sharp regalia are for THEE

Whose days eternally go on.

For us, - whatever's undergone,

Thou knowest, willest what is done.

Grief may be joy misunderstood;

Only the Good discerns the good.

I trust Thee while my days go on.

Whatever's lost, it first was won;

We will not struggle nor impugn.

Perhaps the cup was broken here,

That Heaven's new wine might show more clear.

I praise Thee while my days go on.

I praise Thee while my days go on;

I love Thee while my days go on;

Through dark and dearth, through fire and frost,

With emptied arms and treasure lost,

I thank Thee while my days go on.

And having in Thy life-depth thrown

Being and suffering (which are one),

As a child drops his pebble small

Down some deep well and hears it fall

Smiling - so I.  THY DAYS GO ON.