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The World's Equilibrium Hath Been Upset
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2: O Son Of Spirit! The Bird Seeketh Its Nest; The Nightingale The
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Praise Be To Thee O Lord My God For The






Praise be to Thee, O Lord My God, for the wondrous revelations of Thy
inscrutable decree and the manifold woes and trials Thou hast destined for
Myself. At one time Thou didst deliver Me into the hands of Nimrod; at
another Thou hast allowed Pharaoh's rod to persecute Me. Thou, alone,
canst estimate, through Thine all-encompassing knowledge and the operation
of Thy Will, the incalculable afflictions I have suffered at their hands.
Again Thou didst cast Me into the prison-cell of the ungodly, for no
reason except that I was moved to whisper into the ears of the
well-favored denizens of Thy Kingdom an intimation of the vision with
which Thou hadst, through Thy knowledge, inspired Me, and revealed to Me
its meaning through the potency of Thy might. And again Thou didst decree
that I be beheaded by the sword of the infidel. Again I was crucified for
having unveiled to men's eyes the hidden gems of Thy glorious unity, for
having revealed to them the wondrous signs of Thy sovereign and
everlasting power. How bitter the humiliations heaped upon Me, in a
subsequent age, on the plain of Karbila! How lonely did I feel amidst Thy
people! To what a state of helplessness I was reduced in that land!
Unsatisfied with such indignities, My persecutors decapitated Me, and,
carrying aloft My head from land to land paraded it before the gaze of the
unbelieving multitude, and deposited it on the seats of the perverse and
faithless. In a later age, I was suspended, and My breast was made a
target to the darts of the malicious cruelty of My foes. My limbs were
riddled with bullets, and My body was torn asunder. Finally, behold how,
in this Day, My treacherous enemies have leagued themselves against Me,
and are continually plotting to instill the venom of hate and malice into
the souls of Thy servants. With all their might they are scheming to
accomplish their purpose.... Grievous as is My plight, O God, My
Well-Beloved, I render thanks unto Thee, and My Spirit is grateful for
whatsoever hath befallen me in the path of Thy good-pleasure. I am well
pleased with that which Thou didst ordain for Me, and welcome, however
calamitous, the pains and sorrows I am made to suffer.





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