The Poems of Felicia Hemans

by Mrs. Hemans

I bless thee, O my God!

Now aid, sustain me still. To thee I come—

Make thou my dwelling where thy children are,

And for the hope of that immortal home,

And for thy Son, the bright and morning star,

The sufferer and the victor-king of death,

I bless thee with my glad song’s dying breath!

I bless thee, O my God!

[“I have lately written what I consider one of my best pieces—‘A Poet’s Dying Hymn.’ It appeared in the last number of Blackwood,” (April 1832.)—Letter from Mrs Hemans.

“It is impossible to read this affecting poem without feeling how distinctly it breathes the inward echoes of the soul to the frequent warnings of the Summoner; those presentiments which must have long silently possessed her, here for the first time finding utterance. Still more strongly does it evidence that subdued and serene frame of mind, into which her once vivacious temperament and painfully vibrating sensibilities were now so gently and happily subsiding.”—Memoir, p. 254.]