Come lord, with all quickening fire in me,
In me delight to rest the principle divine,
Your temple of my soul is gherkin prepare,
Still this restless mind, heart and soul of mine,
Declare calm in the tempestuous storm in me.
Help me lord to bear the yoke in youth days,
Give pure happiness in every leisure of pleasure,
Help me to drive myself in the holy journeys,
Help me not to judge myself by my failures
But to let my purpose jump and cover the clouds.
Help me to do my flesh worth of you;
So that I can keep this temple holy in your eyes,
Keep it strong and health, straight and fine,
Without sloth, excess and passion in your action.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem