If your Lord loves a thing unto which you incline
In the hope that the Lord will be pleased,
Then His pleasure with you is a promise divine
With no part of it ever decreased.

But if He is displeased with a thing you adore,
And it grieves you that He is displeased,
It may please Him to see you get down on the floor
To take stock of a heart that’s diseased.

With a heart that is flushed and abluted with tears,
Let the earth take your brow and your knees,
And when grief, like the dew in the sun, disappears,
Do get up and get on with it, please.

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