Light of the worlds?

Thou seest Me forbidden to speak forth: Then from where will spring Thy
melodies, O Nightingale of the worlds?

Most of the people are enwrapped in fancy and idle imaginings: Where are
the exponents of Thy certitude, O Assurance of the worlds?

Baha is drowning in a sea of tribulation: Where is the Ark of Thy
salvation, O Savior of the worlds?

Thou seest the Dayspring of Thine utterance in the darkness of creation:
Where is the sun of the heaven of Thy grace, O Lightgiver of the worlds?

The lamps of truth and purity, of loyalty and honor, have been put out:
Where are the signs of Thine avenging wrath, O Mover of the worlds?

Canst Thou see any who have championed Thy Self, or who ponder on what
hath befallen Him in the pathway of Thy love? Now doth My pen halt, O
Beloved of the worlds.

The branches of the Divine Lote-Tree lie broken by the onrushing gales of
destiny: Where are the banners of Thy succor, O Champion of the worlds?

This Face is hidden in the dust of slander: Where are the breezes of Thy
compassion, O Mercy of the worlds?

The robe of sanctity is sullied by the people of deceit: Where is the
vesture of Thy holiness, O Adorner of the worlds?

The sea of grace is stilled for what the hands of men have wrought: Where
are the waves of Thy bounty, O Desire of the worlds?

The door leading to the Divine Presence is locked through the tyranny of
Thy foes: Where is the key of Thy bestowal, O Unlocker of the worlds?

The leaves are yellowed by the poisoning winds of sedition: Where is the
downpour of the clouds of Thy bounty, O Giver of the worlds?

The universe is darkened with the dust of sin: Where are the breezes of
Thy forgiveness, O Forgiver of the worlds?

This Youth is lonely in a desolate land: Where is the rain of Thy heavenly
grace, O Bestower of the worlds?

O Supreme Pen, We have heard Thy most sweet call in the eternal realm:
Give Thou ear unto what the Tongue of Grandeur uttereth, O Wronged One of
the worlds!

Were it not for the cold, how would the heat of Thy words prevail, O
Expounder of the worlds?

Were it not for calamity, how would the sun of Thy patience shine, O Light
of the worlds?

Lament not because of the wicked. Thou wert created to bear and endure, O
Patience of the worlds.

How sweet was Thy dawning on the horizon of the Covenant among the
stirrers of sedition, and Thy yearning after God, O Love of the worlds.

By Thee the banner of in