Being is but a loan to us, and Life in trust we hold: In slaves a claim to Power's pretension arrogant and bold; The servant's part is by submission and obedience told; Should He, "My slave," address to me, 'twere favors manifold. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! I'm poor and empty-handed, but grace free is of the Lord; Nonentity's my attribute: to Be is of the Lord; For Being or Non-being's rise, decree is of the Lord; The surging of the Seen and Unseen's sea is of the Lord. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! Of gifts from table of his Bounty is my daily bread; My breath is from the Breath of God's benignant Mercy fed; My portion from the favors of Almighty Power is shed; And my provision is from Providence's kitchen spread. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! I can not, unallotted, take my share from wet or dry; From land or from the ocean, from earth or from the sky; The silver or the gold will come, by Providence laid by; I can not grasp aught other than my fortune doth supply. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! Creation's Pen the lines of billows of events hath traced; Th' illumined scroll of the Two Worlds, Creation's Pencil graced; Their garments upon earth and sky, Creation's woof hath placed; Men's forms are pictures in Creation's great Shah-Nama traced. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! I can not make the morning eve, or the dark night the day; I can not turn the air to fire, or dust to water's spray; I can not bid the Sphere stand still, or mountain region stray; I can not Autumn turn by will of mine to lovely May. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! From out of Nothingness his mighty Power made me appear; Whilst in the womb I lay, saw he to all I need for here; With kindness concealed and manifest did he me rear; With me he drew a curtain o'er Distinction's beauty dear. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! God's Revelation is Discernment's Eye, if't oped remain; The picturings of worlds are all things changing aye amain; The showing of the Hidden Treasure is this raging main, This work, this business of the Lord, this Majesty made plain. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! Now void, now full, are Possibility's storehouses vast; This glass-lined world's the mirror where Lights Twain their phases cast; The blinded thing—in scattering strange fruits its hours are past; Ruined hath this old Vineyard been by autumn's sullen blast. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! GAZEL