18 The Infirm Beggar Sings
Broken and bruised by the hand of Fate,
Dark night, my staff,
Leaning on its shadowy strength I walk
Toward thee, my God.
Thy crescent my e’er-present friend;
Thy wind, thy voice,
Calls me to go on without end
To thy star that my soul hath seen.
The hour is black, my road unbuilt;
My beggar’s song
I cannot sing; yet, thou knowest,
For thy love I long!
I come, O Lord! broken and battered
To thy world where sorrow is not.