Would that I could make musicians of stones, and dancers of the sand of the lake, and singers of the leaves of all the forests, that they might help me glorify the Lord. So that the voice of the earth, too, might be heard among the choirs of angels.
The sons of men have flung themselves upon the table of the absent Host, and they sing to none but themselves and their morsels, which at the last they must return to the earth.
Most sorrowful is the blindness of the sons of men, that they see not the power and the glory of the Lord. The bird lives in the forest, and sees not the forest. The fish swims in the water, and sees not the water. The mole burrows beneath the earth, and sees not the earth. In truth, most sorrowful is the likeness of man to the birds, and the fishes, and the moles.
Men, like the beasts, pay no heed to that which exists in abundance, but lift their eyelashes only before rarities, before exceptions.
There is too much of Thee, O Lord, my breathing, therefore men do not see Thee. Too evident art Thou, O Lord, my sighing, therefore the attention of men is turned away from Thee and fixed upon polar bears, upon rarities in the distance.
Too much dost Thou serve Thy servants, my sweet faithfulness, therefore art Thou exposed to contempt. Too early dost Thou rise, to kindle the sun over the lake, therefore the sleepers cannot bear Thee. Too zealous art Thou in lighting the night lamps upon the vault of heaven, my unsurpassable zeal, yet the slothful heart of men speaks far more of a negligent servant than of a zealous one.
O my Love, would that I could rouse all the inhabitants of earth, water, and air to resound with a hymn to Thee. Would that the leprosy might be lifted from the eyes of the earth, and the harlot become a virgin again, such as Thou didst create her.
Verily Thou art great, O my God, even without the world. Equally great art Thou when the world glorifies Thee and when the world blasphemes Thee. But when the world blasphemes Thee, Thou appearest greater in the eyes of Thy saints.