"Allah!" was all night long the cry of one oppressed with care,
Till softened was his heart, and sweet became his lips with prayer.
Then near the subtle tempter stole, and spake:
"Fond babbler, cease!
For not one 'Here am I' has God e'er sent to give thee peace."
With sorrow sank the suppliant's soul and all his senses fled.
But lo! at midnight, the good angel, Chiser, came, and said:
"What ails thee now, my child, and why art thou afraid to pray?
And why thy former love dost thou repent? declare and say."
"Ah!" cries he, "never once spake God to me, 'Here am I, son.'
Cast off methinks I am, and warned far from his gracious throne."
To whom the angel answered, "Hear the word from God I bear:
'Go tell,' he said, 'yon mourner, sunk in sorrow and despair,
Each "Lord, appear!" thy lips pronounce contains my "Here am I";
A special messenger I send beneath thine every sigh;
Thy love is but a guerdon of the love I bear to thee.
And sleeping in thy "Come, O Lord!" there lies "Here, son!" from me.'"
--Oriental, tr. by William Rounseville Alger.
He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things, both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us
He made and loveth all.
--Samuel Taylor Coleridge.