Shlomo ibn Gabirol Poems

May this my prayer aid mankind
The path of right and worth to find;
The living God, His wondrous ways,
Herein inspire my song of praise.
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Why are you troubled and frightened, my soul?
Be still and dwell where you are.
Since the world to you is small as a hand,
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To the glorious one, girdled by praise,
Great in deeds and tremendous in ways,
Who filleth with wonders our days,
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'Daughter of Zion, tried in Sorrow's furnace,
E'en as I swore thy fathers, be at rest.
I swore it for My sake, and now thy crying
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Who is like unto Thee to uncover the deeps,
And who hath Thy power to raise and cast down?
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Pour out thy heart to the Rock,
Pour out thy inmost soul
To the stronghold naught can shock,
As the mornings and evenings roll.
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As the servant longs for the master's hand, so craves the cantor's soul,
O extend Thy mercy upon him, rend his debt-recording scroll.
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Cantor to God:

'What profits it to see Thy people wallow,
A prostrate lily whelmed in floods of water?
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Humble of spirit, humble the knee, and statue
I approach you with much fear and awe.

In front of You, I consider myself
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Six years were decreed for a slave to wait
When his freedom he sought at his master's hand,
But the years of my bondage lack term or date,
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