Resignation

Guide me, Almighty God, help me, Holy Lord! You shaped heaven and earth, my Wonder-King, and all wonders within, great and many-fold, eternal Lord. To you, glorious God, I commend my soul and my own body, my words and my works, wise Lord, and all my limbs, Shepherd of Light, and my many-sided thoughts. Show me, Shepherd of the Stars, where it may be best for my soul to mark the Measurer’s will, so that I may serve you in all things, and in myself, Truth-fast King, raise up right counsel. Let not the Arch-Thief harm me in the shadows, though I obeyed the Creator, the Glory-King, more weakly, the mighty Lord, than was wise for me. Grant me your grace, living God, for my bitter, baleful deeds. I remember the remedy, Glory of Kings, and will come to it, if I may. Grant me, my master, time and understanding, patience and memory of all things that you, Truth-fast King, wish to send as a trial. Now you know my many sinful deeds; receive me nevertheless, Ordainer, for your mercy, though I committed more grim trespasses than God allowed me; I have need then that I should still earn your favor, the Holy Heaven-King’s, in these fleeting days, to see and seek a life after this one, so that the gracious God may grant me there eternal joy, allow me life, though I have atoned for my baleful deeds more slowly than the commands of holy, heavenly might. Lo, you have given me much here... I set my hope on you, my fearful forethoughts, that it may stand firmly founded. Step into my spirit, good King of souls, with ready counsel. Now I hasten to you, Father of Mankind, from this world, now I know that I must— the time is not far; receive me then, Ruler of Fates, into your glorious joy, and let me depart, dearest Lord, help my spirit. Then too many grim things are granted to the envious; I will have comfort then from my master, though I earned little grace in my time before. Let angels nevertheless take me into your presence, saving King, Ordainer, for your mercy. Though I did many evils in my days, never let the devil lead me, your limb, on a loathsome journey, lest they rejoice in that thought— those over-proud angels who thought themselves better than the eternal Christ. They lied to themselves in that belief; for that they must long..., accursed creatures, suffer vengeance. Stand before me and steer them back, when the storm comes against my spirit; help then, mighty Lord, my soul, protect her and receive her, Father of Mankind, serene in thought, my salvation, eternal God, Creator mighty in power. My spirit is now stained with sins, and I am often fearful for my soul, though you gave me many graces on this earth. To you be thanks for all rewards and mercies that you gave me. There was no earning of them on my part; yet for all this I will have courage and laugh and take hope, adorn myself for the spirit-way and hasten myself to the journey I must set out on, prepare my soul, and for God’s sake endure it all with a blithe heart, now that I am bound fast in my spirit. Indeed, the Lord punishes me for some of those sins which I myself cannot clearly perceive. I have angered God, Ruler of Mankind; for that I was so bitterly punished in this world, as my deeds were great before men, so that I endure a deep martyrdom. I am no keen judge, wise before the crowd; therefore I speak these words, eager in spirit, as from the beginning misery befell me on earth, so that I always endured, year after year (thanks be to God for all!), more hardships of the heart than others, fear among the folk; for that I am driven out, a poor wretch from my homeland. The solitary one, lacking a people’s joy, cannot long endure, a friendless exile (the Ordainer is wroth with him), he grieves in his youth, and at all times men “help” him, increase his misery, and he endures it all, the bitter speech of men, and his spirit is always sad, his heart sick at dawn. I speak this sad tale about myself most truly and speak of a journey, eager with longing, and think on the sea, I know not why I should buy a boat on the water, a vessel on the waves; I have not much gold nor indeed a friend who might help me on that sea-path, now that I myself, because of my poverty, cannot carry out my will. The wood must grow, await its fate, bring forth its branches; I, because of slander, cannot love in my heart any man, any noble in my homeland. O my Lord, mighty protector! That I am sick at heart, bitterly angered— the remedy for that depends on you, after this life. I, a destitute man, cannot in any way in this light without hardships... dwell on earth; when I had friendship with strangers, proclaimed kinship... my reward for love was always sorrow, as I have now lived it. Yet it is best, when a man cannot change his Fate, that he then endure it well.