Few are the obedient, O Lord, though believers there are.
Few are they who gaze unblinking upon their Lord and follow after His gaze.
I seek out the obedient, O my Lord, and share my joy with them. I tell them of Thy ways and of Thy wisdom, and they confirm my telling. And our joy we multiply and — share.
I listen to the tale of the obedient, how Thou didst remove the stumbling-blocks from before their feet, and I add my own tale, and our room is filled with heaven.
All the happenings that have befallen us we sift through the fine sieve of Thy law, and the chaff that falls away we call our own, and the pure grain that remains we call Thine.
We reckon up all our torments, all our tears, and all our sufferings for Thy name's sake, and find ourselves the gainers.
What good to us is faith from Sunday to Sunday, we say, if it does not bind us every day to the gaze of our Master?
There are believers, O Lord our God, but few are the obedient.
Whom shall I obey, if not the Most Mighty? Shall they who lie fallen raise me up, and shall dying men give me strength?
Whom shall I obey, if not the Most Wise? Shall the untaught teach me, and shall the ignorant tell me the truth?
Whom shall I obey, if not the Most Holy? Shall sinners keep me safe, and shall murderers save my soul?
What would one call a man gone astray, who caught sight of a fire in the dark night, and did not reckon his paths by that fire?
And what would one call the boatman who saw the light in the harbor, and turned his boat aside?
By the same name might be called the believing but disobedient.
Thou hast felt the sting of my disobedience, O my Love; forgive!
Ever since Thy love wounded me, shame has scorched me at the memory of my carelessness.
I had adorned myself with faith in Thee, as with flowers; I walked my own ways, not sensing how Thy love followed hard behind me.
Now my eyes have been opened to Thy love. Thou hast wounded me sorely, and the wound burns me like fire.
Now I see that Thy love followed me on all the slopes and crossroads of my life. I gaze into the past and see only two things: Thy love and my disobedience. Thou hast wounded me sorely, and the wound burns me like fire.
To whom shall I confess my sin but to Thee, against whom I have sinned?
Why should I confess to the disobedient, who will say: you have not sinned greatly, for we too did the same? With their own sin they will justify my sin, and give me no comfort.
They will make their own sin the measure of justice between me and Thee, and will award justice to the sinner.
Thou hast wounded me sorely with Thy love, and the wound burns me like fire.
Yet Thy mercy is measureless, and it opened mine eyes before I died.
Forgive, O Lord, and command Thy servant!
How meekly even now Thou lookest upon me and commandest, as though I had never sinned against Thee!
Command, O Master, and scourge me with the whip, and help my conscience to scourge me.
Thou hast wounded me sorely, and the wound burns me like fire.
Let it be. Let it burn me like three fires, until I grow accustomed to be obedient as an angel of heaven.
Until obedience to Thy will, O Lord, becomes the sole sweetness of my days and nights, unto the end of the age.