Do justice now, God, of all justice the fount! Thou sittest in justice’ seat; threshold I count. 240 From chief seat to threshold! How far raised above! Where stand “_we_” and “_I_” in the sight of our love?[230] O Thou who art free, quite from “_I_” and from “_we_,” Thou heart’s-joy of all men and women that be; Where men and where women join, One art Thou, Sole! Where units appear, Thou’rt the sum of the whole! This “_I_” and this “_we_” Thou’st ordained for Thy state; That psalms, hymns, and lauds may still rise to Thy gate. When “I” and when “we” shall unite both in One, Absorbed they’ll be in Thy essence alone. 245 Existencies, potencies, all rise from Thee. Denial and potency, Thou’rt from these free. Can eye now behold Thee as truly Thou art? Can heart Thy love picture, and smiles, e’en in part? The heart that’s a slave to a love or a smile Can never be worthy to see Thee awhile. Engrossed he that’s now with pleasure and pain, Can he, by these accidents, live o’er again? Green pastures of love, in their infinitude, More fruits yield than care, and than beatitude. 250 Love’s far above these evanescent two states; Without spring and autumn, its verdant estates. Pay beauty’s high toll, Beauty, on Thy sweet face; Set forth lover’s torments with all due preface. That archness of look of my coquettish Swain Anew has my heart fired with love’s brand of pain. I gave Him permission to pour out my blood. I spoke of permission. He fled me for good. Why fleest thus, always, the groans of complaint? Why pourest Thou suffering’s floods on the faint? 255 O Thou, whom each morn, as it dawns in the East, Has found, like the sun, full prepared for a feast, What cause have I furnished for all this sad pain, O Thou, whose lips sweeter than sugar remain? Thou ever new life givest to this old world; The prayer hear of one whom from life Thou hast hurled! For heaven’s sake, quit talking of spring’s roses red, And think of the nightingale banished their bed. My eagerness grows not from joy, or from grief; My senses cajoled will not be by whim’s thief. 260 My state is just one very often not seen; Contest not; truth’s ever victorious been. Think not my state that of all these common men; Be not benefactor, to tyrannise then. If kindness and tyranny, joy, grief, are new; All new things must die. God inherits.[231] That’s true. ’Tis dawn. O of dawn Thou who art the sole cause! Excuse for me make to Husāmu-’d-Dīn’s laws.[232] Excuses for angels and souls Thou canst see; Thou art the soul’s life; coral’s shine is from Thee.[233] 265 From Thy light have sprung men and brightness of dawn.[234] We’re all aided by Thee, Thou cup of wine drawn.