As the storm still seeks its end in peace when it strikes against
peace with all its might, even thus my rebellion strikes against
thy love and still its cry is--'I want thee, only thee'.
When the heart is hard and parched up, come upon me with a shower
of mercy.
When grace is lost from life, come with a burst of song.
When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out
from beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and
rest.
When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner, break
open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a king.
When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy
one, thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder.
The rain has held back for days and days, my God, in my arid
heart. The horizon is fiercely naked--not the thinnest cover of
a soft cloud, not the vaguest hint of a distant cool shower.
Send thy angry storm, dark with death, if it is thy wish, and
with lashes of lightning startle the sky from end to end.
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