Merciful

---

Merciful

Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #322

Why art Thou so austere like a desert’s sky?
A drought is on my being, Thy mercy lacking,
Clogged are the channels of grace on high,
And am left to the moments for Thee pining.

Must I wander exiled from Thy sanctum chamber,
A paperless emigré denied the repose of home,
All my havens are contained within Thy border,
For what gain must I these forlorn fields roam?

Kindly be to me in all Thy measures undeserved,
For dost Thou not rain upon an abandoned desert
To rouse the near-dead worm in a dried up clod,
Oh surely I need Thy mercy as lowest of Thy least?!

Save me then, Thy reviving heaven-waters bring,
And they’ll sing, ‘O how merciful is our Divine King!’