My King
Ere time began, ere age to age had thrilled,
I waited in His storehouse, as He willed.
He gave me being; but, my years fulfilled,
I shall be summoned back before the King.
Thou gavest me a light my path to guide,
To prove my heart’s recesses still untried;
And as I went, Thy voice in warning cried:
‘Child! fear thou Him who is thy God and King!’
Erring, I wandered in the wilderness,
In passion’s grave nigh sinking, powerless;
Now deeply I repent, in sore distress,
That I kept not the statutes of the King!
Thine is the love, O God, and Thine the grace
That folds the sinner in its mild embrace;
Thine the forgiveness bridging o’er the space
’Twixt man’s works and the task set by the King.
Unheeding all my sins, I cling to Thee!
I know that mercy will Thy footstool be;
Before I call, oh! do Thou answer me,
For nothing dare I claim of Thee, my King.
MOSES BEN NACHMAN, 1300.
(Trans. Alice Lucas.)