A Rose and a Poem {Tuesday Muse}

 The Narrow Way

by Anne Brontë, 1848

Believe not those who say

The upward path is smooth,

Lest thou shouldst stumble in the way

And faint before the truth.

It is the only road

Unto the realms of joy;

But he who seeks that blest abode

Must all his powers employ.

Bright hopes and pure delights 

Upon his course may beam,

And there amid the sternest heights,

The sweetest flowerets gleam; --

On all her breezes borne

Earth yields no scents like those;

But he, that dares not grasp the thorn

Should never crave the rose.

Arm, arm thee for the fight!

Cast useless loads away:

Watch through the darkest hours of night;

Toil through the hottest day.

Crush pride into the dust,

Or thou must needs be slack;

And trample down rebellious lust,

Or it will hold thee back.

Seek not thy treasure here;

Waive pleasure and renown;

The World's dread scoff undaunted bear,

And face its deadliest frown.

To labour and to love,

To pardon and endure,

To lift thy heart to God above,

And keep thy conscience pure, --

Be this thy constant aim,

Thy hope and thy delight, --

What matters who should whisper blame,

Or who should scorn or slight?

What matters -- if thy God approve,

And if within thy breast,

Thou feel the comfort of his love,

The earnest of his rest?

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