Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 35 1834.pdf/5

 He calls thee now from this rude stormy world, To thy Redeemer's breast—And thou wilt die, As thou hast lived,—my duteous, holy Blanche! In trusting and serene submissiveness, Humble, yet full of Heaven. Blanche (rising.)Now is there strength Infused through all my spirit.—I can rise And say—"Thy will be done!" D'Arbigné (pointing upwards.) Seest thou, my child, Yon faint light in the west? The signal-star Of our due vesper-service, gleaming in Through the close dungeon-grating!—Fearfully It seems to quiver; yet shall this night pass, This night alone, without the lifted voice Of adoration in our narrow cell, As if unworthy Fear or wavering Faith Silenced the strain?—No! let it waft to Heaven The Prayer, the Hope, of poor Mortality, In its dark hour once more!—And we will sleep— Yes—calmly sleep, when our last rite is closed.

We know Thou reign'st, the Unchanging One, th' All-Just, And bless Thee still with free and boundless trust!

We know Thou reign'st!—All Holy One, All-Just! And bless Thee still with Love's own boundless trust.