The Power of Love

Love, indeed thy strength is mighty,
Thus alone such strife to bear;
Three 'gainst one, and never ceasing—
Death, and Madness, and Despair.

'Tis not my own strength has saved me;
Health, and hope, and fortitude,
But for love, had long since failed me;
Heart and soul had sunk subdued.

Often in my wild impatience
I have lost my trust in Heaven,
And my soul has tossed and struggled
Like a vessel tempest driven.

But the voice of my belovèd
In my ear has seemed to say—
'Be thou patient, if thou lov'st me,'
And the storm has passed away.

When, outworn with weary thinking,
Sight and thought were waxing dim,
And my mind began to wander,
And my brain began to swim,

Then those hands outstretched to save me
Seemed to call me back again;
Those dark eyes did so implore me
To once more let reason reign,

That I could not but remember
How his hopes were fixed on me,
And, with one determined effort,
Rose, and shook my spirit free.

When hope leaves my weary spirit
And all power to hold it gone,
That loved voice so loudly prays me,
'For my sake, keep hoping on,'

That, at once my strength renewing,
Though Despair had crushed me down,
I can burst his bonds asunder,
And defy his deadliest frown.

When, from nights of restless tossing,
Days of gloom and pining care,
Pain and weakness still increasing
Seem to whisper, 'Death is near.'

And I almost bid him welcome
Knowing he would bring release,
Weary of this restless struggle,
Longing to repose in peace—

Then a glance of fond approval
Bids such selfish longings flee,
And a voice of matchless music
Murmurs, 'Cherish life for me.'

Roused to new-born strength and courage,
Pain and grief I cast away;
Health and life I keenly follow,
Mighty Death is held at bay.

Yes, my Love, I will be patient!
Firm and bold my heart shall be;
Fear not, though this life is dreary,
I can bear it well for thee.

Let our foes still rain upon me
Cruel wrongs and taunting scorn;
'Tis for thee their hate pursues me,
And, for thee, it shall be borne!