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O Lord, who hears me, hear not what I say
when I am bent in anger toward Thee,
when all my cries cry for a better way
than Thine, hear not my prideful faith in me.
I know that Thou hast heard those words of mine,
and have not punished me. I know not why
I warrant such a patience that is Thine,
when shaking all my heart toward thy Sky.
But hear it nevermore. Let me not fear
for what Thou seest that my eyes cannot.
Be with me in my anger. Stay Thou near,
and halt my every angered, fearful thought.
Lord, hush my soul, and let it trust in Thee,
as Thou hast foolishly trusted in me.
~~~
Tell all you are—tell everything to me!
Tell all that makes up all that makes up you!
Tell what you love to love and love to see!
Tell what you truly take to be most true!
For if you tell all that, then I will know
how sweet a soul you are. For no-one swoons
who doesn’t let the good within them grow,
who doesn’t joy in even more spring-blooms.
See, if I let you wax on and again
on what you love to tell, then you will, too,
tell me to tell you mine! And we two, then,
will do what only two such tellers do:
we’ll count our telling, see its doubled weight,
and tell each other, next time, not to wait!