With closed eyes, I sit in the temple of night and worship Thee. The sunlight, revealing a million alluring things, has vanished. One by one, I have closed the doors of my senses, lest the fragrance of the rose, or the song of the nightingale, distract my love from Thee. I am alone in this dark, dark temple. I have left everything, but where art Thou? Darkness is haunting; but, unafraid, I am groping, seeking, crying for Thee. Wilt Thou leave me alone? Come, show Thyself!
The door of my memory swings open. Throbbingly thrilled, my heart looks for Thee, but I find Thee not. Halt! Ye throng of a million thoughts and experiences past! Come not into my sacred temple. I close the bursting, thought-pressed door and run everywhere to find Thee. Where art Thou?
Darkness deepens, and as I sit still, in anguish of despair, I behold a little taper of concentration burning within me. I stand up, and madly rush through the dimly lighted temple — the farther I go, the deeper grows the gloom. I clasp the empty darkness in hope
of seizing Thee. Finding Thee not, I return again, and see the taper dimly burning.
I sing outwardly a loud prayer. My large teardrops, and my strong gusts of prayer almost extinguish the taper. I will pray no more with words nor rush or run about in the temple of Stygian darkness, nor drown the taper with my tears. I will sit still, and command my breath to make no sound. I rebuke my boisterous love for Thee. The taper of meditation burns brighter now.
O, how maddening! I cannot worship Thee with words, but only with wistful yearning. Brighter the light grows: I behold Thee now. Thou art I. I worship Thee.
As night hides everything, I will worship Thee in hidden silence.
I am glad with the joy of all minds. I will use the screen of the night to hide myself from the tempting things of the day.
O Night, when I am worried, throw thy veil of silent darkness around me. Create a dark temple for me wherever I go, that I may invoke and call Him, whom I love, at any time, anywhere, everywhere.
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