Your love is not so fickle,
So windblown in wind strewn whispers.
Your love is valiant,
A mighty, deep-rooted tree,
And I find refuge beneath its branches.
Take not the one joy of my life away,
Have compassion on this sin-sorrowed soul,
This one who has forgotten who she is,
Who has forgotten you are,
For who she is is wrapped up in you...
And to forget you is to forget herself.
Remember.
You are the only good I have in life!
This good, this joy of my salvation!
And my God, I doubt.
I know I do not know it, wholly, truly, generously.
I know it minimally.
And even minimally, it draws me and I love it,
And becaue I know it minimally, I fear it more than anything.
Why do you console me?
Why, O Good, do you offer water? My offering is vinegar.
Why do you comfort this weeping, weak one?
Why do you give the thing I want most and have refused most often,
Yourself, the Presence I long for,
The Person I push away,
The One I cannot grasp, appreciate, or love as I should?
And yet you pour down rain on us all alike,
And I am in a torrent,
Undeserved.
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