At dawn when I awake, my first thoughts fly to Thee; the first stirrings of my soul reach out toward Thy smile; my first whisper is Thy name, my first surprise — Thou, beside me.
Like an infant after a terrifying dream, who embraces his mother and rejoices that the dream did not part him from his mother, so I too: waking, I embrace Thee and rejoice that my journeying in sleep has not carried me far from Thy hand.
How unloving I am toward Thee, O my Love! Shame eats at me, that I am so unloving toward Thee. While Thou dost not part from me even for a moment, I part from Thee in sleep for whole hours. Therefore I curse my sleep and my slumbering, and I marvel at the heavenly hosts, who take not their gaze from Thee by day or by night.
Sleep wearies me, but Thou givest me rest. There is no rest for the weary without gazing upon Thee, nor delight for the embittered without converse with Thee, nor health for the sick without the touch of Thy hand, nor cleansing for the unclean without bathing in Thy light.
I hasten to Thy temple through empty streets; I hasten and meet no one in the empty streets. All are asleep, and in their dreams they are tormented in their remoteness from Thee, while Thou sittest upon every bed and awaitest the return of souls from afar.
Shame eats at me, O my Love, at how unloving the souls of men are toward Thee, and how long they part themselves from their Life.
The beasts of the mountain, too, have awakened at dawn, and Thou standest beside them and shepherdest them. Of food think the beasts
of the mountain; of food they think early in the morning, even as I. Behold, I too think at dawn of my food, and I know that only by Thee can my hunger be stilled.
Through the empty streets I hasten, O my Glory, to seek Thy glory. And I hear the muezzin crying from his tower, and I hear the bell calling to church. And I rise up in my thoughts and survey all the places of the earth, to see how many of the sons of men have parted from their senseless journeying in sleep and have met with Him Who Is, who is far from the senselessness of sleep.
The holy ascetics have risen in their caves and cells, and long since have they been conversing with Thee. They have risen whose souls never even lie down, but burn upright like a candle before Thee day and night.
Bless, O Lord, all these ascetics and men of prayer, who with their lives, as with incense, cense the sleeping earth.
Thousands upon thousands of souls part from their bodies at dawn. And when the sun is born, it will burn like a funeral candle over thousands of the dead.
And I behold Thee, O my Love, keeping vigil beside many thousands of the dying, waiting for them to call upon Thy name. And behold, some of them repent of the whole sleep of their life and cry out to Thee for help.
Bless, O Lord, all who repent at death, and answer their cry.
Through the empty streets I hasten, O my Glory, and I enter the temple, to sing and magnify Thy glory. And I stand alone in the temple, which is filled full of Thee and Thine angels. And I fall on my knees and pray to Thee with tears:
Awaken unto Thyself all sleeping souls, O Lord, Upholder of the Heavens — all the sleeping souls of my brethren and of my people!
The souls of sinners have grown heavy and slack, and have sunk down close to Hades. O ever-wakeful Love, awaken them before death pushes them one step more
deeper into sleep, into eternal sleep — into that terrible sleep beside which Thou keepest no vigil.