“How blest is the transgression pardoned of the Lord! The rose, from thorny stem, He calls forth at a word! Remember ‘Umer’s guilt,--his murderous design[416] Against the Prophet! This brought him to faith benign. Was’t not to practise magic Pharaoh called his priests? The grace of God converted them to saints from beasts. Had they not been magicians, he not obstinate, They’d ne’er been made assemble, truth excogitate. 115 How would they e’er have seen the staff, the miracles? Your sin proved your conversion, reprehensibles! “The Lord can far remove our state of deep despair, Our sin can change to righteousness; foulness to fair. God can our worst offences purge away, make clean; Imputing virtue to us, spite of vice’s mien. For this is Satan chased away with igneous bolts;[417] His proud inflation bursts in twain, from envy’s jolts. He strives to multiply the direful load of sin, That, under its dead weight, he man in hell may pin. 120 And when he finds unrighteousness as service told, His torment is redoubled, heartache twenty-fold. “Come in! A door I’ve opened for thy entrance, wide. Thou spattest on me. I reply with favour’s tide. On him who injured me I benefits bestow;[418] My head I lay before the feet of friends, below; Thou mayest conceive what gifts I hold in store for them, My faithful servants;--treasures, thrones, and diadem. I’m such a man that whoso strives to shed my blood Forgiven is, and overwhelmed with favour’s flood. 125 The Prophet quiet notice whispered to my slave, The day would come when he to take my life would crave. Me, also, he informed, through revelation’s voice, That I should die, smote by a hand of my own choice. That servant begged and prayed for instant death’s release, So he’d be spared from sin so heinous,--love’s decease. But I replied: ‘Since ’tis decreed that by thy hand My life be ta’en, why should I seek a countermand?’ Before me prone he fell, this prayer he warmly made: ‘Hew me in twain! For love of God, let me persuade! 130 Pray save me from so vile, so villainous, a fate. Remorse for ever as its prey will hold my hate.’ “Again I firmly answered him,--decidedly: ‘No counsel will avail. Pen’s mark must needs apply. I bear no grudge against thee in my inmost soul; I hold thee not responsible for deed so foul. Thou’rt but the instrument, ’tis God that strikes the blow! How can I chide His instrument,--His arrow’s bow?’