As the potter's vessels break to pieces,
So are they broken who look for shelter,
For therein lie sorrow and ever changing confusion.
Shall find desolation.
Tears shall await those
Who have established comfort in the loftiness of their purpose.
I met a man in the shadow of a temple
And I beheld my face in his tears.
None shall wake thee from thy weariness
And the sun shall have arisen and set
Before thou walkest forth.
The fatness of thy heart
Shall blind thine eye in time of affliction,
And as a man is lost in the darkness of the forest,
So shall it be with thee
If thou stayest in the sanctuary of a graven thought.
Ah, friend,
Great must be the burning fire
To consume thy house of comfort,
To increase thy devouring anxiety,
For out of that confusion
Shall be born full understanding.
Take council with the whole
For in the part there is decay. |
