Contrite and full of dread, I mourn each moment fled Midst idle follies roaming desolate; I sink beneath transgressions manifold, That from Thy presence keep me separate; Nor can sin-darkened eyes Thy light behold. Oh! would that I might be A servant unto Thee, Thou God, by all adored. Then, though by friends out-cast, Thy hand would hold me fast, And draw me near to Thee, my King and Lord! So lead me that I may Thy sovereign will obey. Make pure my heart to seek Thy truth divine; When burns my wound, be Thou with healing near! Answer me, Lord! for sore distress is mine, And say unto Thy servant, I am here! Oh! would that I might be A servant unto Thee, Thou God, by all adored! Then, though by friends out-cast, Thy hand would hold me fast, And draw me near to Thee, my King and Lord! JEHUDA HALEVI. My King Ere time began, ere age to age had thrilled, I waited in His storehouse, as He willed; He gave me being, but, my years fulfilled, I shall be summoned back before the King. He called the hidden to the light of day, To right and left, each side the fountain lay, From out the stream and down the steps, the way That led me to the garden of the King. Thou gavest me a light my path to guide, To prove my heart’s recesses still untried; And as I went, Thy voice in warning cried: “Child! fear thou Him Who is Thy God and King!” True weight and measure learned my heart from Thee; If blessings follow, then what joy for me! If naught but sin, all mine the shame must be, For that was not determined by the King. I hasten, trembling, to confess the whole Of my transgressions, ere I reach the goal Where mine own words must witness ’gainst my soul, And who dares doubt the writing of the King? Erring, I wandered in the wilderness, In passion’s grave nigh sinking powerless: Now deeply I repent, in sore distress, That I kept not the statutes of the King! With worldly longings was my bosom fraught, Earth’s idle toys and follies all I sought; Ah! when He judges joys so dearly bought, How greatly shall I fear my Lord and King! Now conscience-stricken, humbled to the dust, Doubting himself, in Thee alone his trust, He shrinks in terror back, for God is just— How can a sinner hope to reach the King? Oh! be Thy mercy in the balance laid, To hold Thy servant’s sins more lightly weighed, When, his confession penitently made, He answers for his guilt before the King. Thine is the love, O God! and Thine the grace, That folds the sinner in its mild embrace; Thine the forgiveness bridging o’er the space ’Twixt man’s works and the task set by the King.