Though I Sit in Darkness

O silent Dove, pour out thy whispered prayer,
Stricken amid the tents of Meshekh;

And lift up thy soul unto God—

Thy banner, thy chariot and thy horseman—
Who kindleth the light of thy sun:

Who formeth light and createth darkness.

To the Whole He called with His word,

And it arose in a moment, at His bidding,
To show unto all the strength of His glory
In the world which, no longer void, He had formed,

What time, from the east, unto His light
He called and moved the darkness.

And the host of His heavens heard
The word: "Let there be Light”: and it was known

That there is a Rock by whom are cleft

The clouds, and the corner-stones laid.

And they gave thanks to their Maker, since they knew

The excellency of light over darkness.

So will He yet light up ray gloom,

And uphold him who raiseth my fallen estate,
And make the light of mine assembly shine forth.

Then the chosen one yet shall boast herself:

" Behold the light of the Rock of my praise
Is mine, though I sit in darkness”