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Behold Thou this stranger,
O my Lord,
who hath hastened to attain his most
exalted Home in the shelter of Thy shadowing mercy,
and this ailing soul
who hath set his face towards the ocean of Thy healing.
Look,
then,
O Thou my God Who settest my soul on fire,
upon the tears I
shed,
and the sighs I utter,
and the anguish that afflicteth my heart and
the fire that consumeth my being.
Thy glory beareth me witness,
O Thou,
the Light of the world!
The fire of Thy love that burneth continually
within me hath so inflamed me that whoever among Thy creatures approacheth
me,
and inclineth his inner ear towards me,
cannot fail to hear its raging
within each of my veins.
I am so carried away by the sweetness of Thine utterances,
and so
inebriated with the wine of Thy tender mercies,
that my voice can never be
stilled,
nor can my suppliant hands any longer desist from being stretched
out towards Thee.
Thou seest,
O my Lord,
how mine eyes are fixed in the
direction of Thy grace,
and mine ears inclined towards the kingdom of
Thine utterance,
and my tongue unloosed to celebrate Thy praise,
and my
face set towards Thy face that surviveth all that hath been created by Thy
word,
and my hands raised up towards the heaven of Thy bounty and favor.
Wilt Thou keep back from Thee the stranger whom Thou didst call unto his
most exalted Home beneath the shadow of the wings of Thy mercy,
or cast
away the wretched creature that hath hastened to attain the shores of the
ocean of Thy wealth?
Wilt Thou shut up the door of Thy grace to the face
of Thy creatures after having opened it through the power of Thy might and
of Thy sovereignty,
or close the eyes of Thy people when Thou hast already
commanded them to turn unto the Day-Spring of Thy Beauty and the
Dawning-Place of the splendors of Thy countenance?
Nay,
and to this Thy glory beareth me witness!
Such is not my thought of
Thee,
nor the thought of those of Thy servants that have near access to
Thyself,
nor that of the sincere amongst Thy people.
Thou knowest,
and seest,
and hearest,
O my Lord,
that before every tree I
am moved to lift up my voice to Thee,
and before every stone I am impelled
to sigh and lament.
Hath it been Thy purpose in creating me,
O my God,
to
touch me with tribulation,
or to enable me to manifest Thy Cause in the
kingdom of Thy creation?
Thou hearest,
O my God,
my sighs and my groaning,
and beholdest my
powerlessness,
and my poverty,
and my misery,
and my woes,
and my
wretchedness.
I swear by Thy might!
I have wept with such a weeping that I
have been unable to make mention of Thee,