Strona 37 z 83

When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner, break

open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a king.

When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy

one, thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder.

40.

The rain has held back for days and days, my God, in my arid

heart. The horizon is fiercely naked-not the thinnest cover of a

soft cloud, not the vaguest hint of a distant cool shower.

Send thy angry storm, dark with death, if it is thy wish, and

with lashes of lightning startle the sky from end to end.

But call back, my lord, call back this pervading silent heat,

still and keen and cruel, burning the heart with dire despair.

Let the cloud of grace bend low from above like the tearful look

of the mother on the day of the father's wrath.

41.