I blest His grace that gave and took

My husband and I have been listening to the True Beauty: Cultivating Christ-Centered Father-Daughter Relationships (8 CDs) from Vision Forum, thank you Sarah! . We have really enjoyed it so very much, and I highly recommend it to anyone, not just fathers and daughters. One of the sessions was Geoffry Botkin and he was speaking on several godly women from history and lessons we can learn from their lives. One of the women that he spoke of was Anne Bradstreet and he read part of the poem that I have down below and it moved me to tears and really challenged me to bless the name of the Lord no matter what is His will for my life.


I want to be a woman who can say "I blest his grace that gave and took" along with Anne Bradstreet, instead of a woman who pities herself and looks only to her only comfort and happiness instead of rejoicing in the will of the Lord. I want to be a woman who blooms where she is planted, whether it be in need, sorrow, joy, or plenty. I want to be like many of the women of old, who dared to trust God and follow their husbands with joy no matter what the costs.

I know the poem is long but please take the time to read it and be blessed. It is a good strong poem that shows the heart of a woman of character and godly virtue.

Verses upon the Burning of our House

In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow near I did not look,
I waken'd was with thund'ring noise
And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.
That fearful sound of "fire" and "fire,"
Let no man know is my Desire.
I starting up, the light did spy,
And to my God my heart did cry
To straighten me in my Distress
And not to leave me succourless.
Then coming out, behold a space
The flame consume my dwelling place.
And when I could no longer look,
I blest his grace that gave and took,
That laid my goods now in the dust.
Yea, so it was, and so 'twas just.
It was his own; it was not mine.
Far be it that I should repine,
He might of all justly bereft
But yet sufficient for us left.
When by the Ruins oft I past
My sorrowing eyes aside did cast
And here and there the places spy
Where oft I sate and long did lie.
Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest,
There lay that store I counted best,
My pleasant things in ashes lie
And them behold no more shall I.
Under the roof no guest shall sit,
Nor at thy Table eat a bit.
No pleasant talk shall 'ere be told
Nor things recounted done of old.
No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee,
Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee.
In silence ever shalt thou lie.
Adieu, Adieu, All's Vanity.
Then straight I 'gin my heart to chide:
And did thy wealth on earth abide,
Didst fix thy hope on mouldring dust,
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the sky
That dunghill mists away may fly.
Thou hast a house on high erect
Fram'd by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished
Stands permanent, though this be fled.
It's purchased and paid for too
By him who hath enough to do.
A price so vast as is unknown,
Yet by his gift is made thine own.

There's wealth enough; I need no more.
Farewell, my pelf; farewell, my store.
The world no longer let me love;
My hope and Treasure lies above.

Mrs. Anne Bradstreet - July 1666