Yehudah Halevi

Where, Lord, will I find you: your place is high and obscured. And where won’t I find you: your glory fills the world. You dwell deep within— you’ve fixed the ends of creation. You stand, a tower for the near, refuge to those far off. You’ve lain above the Ark, here, yet live in the highest heavens. Exalted among your hosts, although beyond their hymns— no heavenly sphere could ever contain you, let alone a chamber within. In being borne above them on an exalted throne, you are closer to them than their breath and skin. Their mouths bear witness for them, that you alone gave them form. Your kingdom’s burden is theirs; who wouldn’t fear you? And who could fail to search for you— who sends down food when it is due? I sought your nearness. With all my heart I called you. And in my going out to meet you, I found you coming toward me, as in the wonders of your might and holy works I saw you. Who would say he hasn’t seen your glory as the heavens’ hordes declare their awe of you without a sound being heard? But could the Lord, in truth, dwell in men on earth? How would men you made from the dust and clay fathom your presence there, enthroned upon their praise? The creatures hovering over the world praise your wonders— your throne borne high above their heads, as you bear all forever.

all my desire is here before you, whether or not I speak of it: I'd seek your favor, for an instant, then die— if only you would grant my wish. I'd place my spirit in your hand, then sleep—and in that sleep find sweetness. I wander from you—and die alive; the closer I cling—I live to die. How to approach I still don't know, nor on what words I might rely. Instruct me, Lord: advise and guide me. Free me from my prison of lies. Teach me while I can bear the affliction— do not, Lord, despise my plea; before I've become my own burden and the little I am weighs on me, and against my will, I give in as worms eat bones that weary of me. I'll come to the place my forefathers reached, and by their place of rest find rest. Earth's back to me is foreign; my one true home is in its dust. Till now my youth has done what it would: When will I provide for myself? The world He placed in my heart has kept me from tending to my end and after. How could I come to serve my Lord, when I am still desire's prisoner? How could I ask for a place on high, when I know the worm will be my sister? How at that end could my heart be glad, when I do not know what death will bring? Day after day and night after night reduce the flesh upon me to nothing. Into the winds they'll scatter my spirit. To dust they'll return the little remaining. What can I say—with desire my enemy, from boyhood till now pursuing me: What is Time to me but your Will? If you're not with me, what will I be? I stand bereft of any virtue: only your justice and mercy shield me. But why should I speak, or even aspire? Lord, before you is all my desire.