A Worshipper’s Lament

I tremble when I recall the prayer of one distracted in the temple of Mecca. Thus did he lament:

“Throw me not down, for no one will hold my hand to succour me. Whether Thou call me or drive me away, my head has no resting-place but Thy threshold. Thou knowest that I am poor and helpless; I am oppressed by my evil passions. Keep me from pollution, and forgive my sins. Close not mine eyes from the face of happiness; bind not my tongue when I recite the creed. Place the lamp of Faith before my way; make my hand short from doing evil. From the sun of Thy goodness one ray suffices, for except in Thy rays I am not seen. Why should I weep because of my condition? If I am weak, my refuge is strong.”