Darkness hath enveloped most of the peoples: Where is the brightness of Thy splendor, O Radiance of the worlds? The necks of men are stretched out in malice: Where are the swords of Thy vengeance, O Destroyer of the worlds? Abasement hath reached its lowest depth: Where are the emblems of Thy glory, O Glory of the worlds? Sorrows have afflicted the Revealer of Thy Name, the All-Merciful: Where is the joy of the Dayspring of Thy Revelation, O Delight of the worlds? Anguish hath befallen all the peoples of the earth: Where are the ensigns of Thy gladness, O Joy of the worlds? Thou seest the Dawning Place of Thy signs veiled by evil suggestions: Where are the fingers of Thy might, O Power of the worlds? Sore thirst hath overcome all men: Where is the river of Thy bounty, O Mercy of the worlds? Greed hath made captive all mankind: Where are the embodiments of detachment, O Lord of the worlds? Thou seest this Wronged One lonely in exile: Where are the hosts of the heaven of Thy Command, O Sovereign of the worlds? I have been forsaken in a foreign land: Where are the emblems of Thy faithfulness, O Trust of the worlds? The agonies of death have laid hold on all men: Where is the surging of Thine ocean of eternal life, O Life of the worlds? The whisperings of Satan have been breathed to every creature: Where is the meteor of Thy fire, O Light of the worlds? The drunkenness of passion hath perverted most of mankind: Where are the daysprings of purity, O Desire of the worlds? Thou seest this Wronged One veiled in tyranny among the Syrians: Where is the radiance of Thy dawning light, O Light of the worlds? Thou seest Me forbidden to speak forth: Then from where will spring Thy melodies, O Nightingale of the worlds? Most of the people are enwrapped in fancy and idle imaginings: Where are the exponents of Thy certitude, O Assurance of the worlds? Bahá is drowning in a sea of tribulation: Where is the Ark of Thy salvation, O Savior of the worlds? Thou seest the Dayspring of Thine utterance in the darkness of creation: Where is the sun of the heaven of Thy grace, O Lightgiver of the worlds? The lamps of truth and purity, of loyalty and honor, have been put out: Where are the signs of Thine avenging wrath, O Mover of the worlds? Canst Thou see any who have championed Thy Self, or who ponder on what hath befallen Him in the pathway of Thy love? Now doth My pen halt, O Beloved of the worlds. The branches of the Divine Lote-Tree lie broken by the onrushing gales of destiny: Where are the banners of Thy succor, O Champion of the worlds? This Face is hidden in the dust of slander: Where are the breezes of Thy compassion, O Mercy of the worlds? The robe of sanctity is sullied by the people of deceit: Where is the vesture of Thy holiness, O Adorner of the worlds? The sea of grace is stilled for what the hands of men have wrought: Where are the waves of Thy bounty, O Desire of the worlds?