The wilderness is needful to expose The shifting bedrock of our wandering souls. What otherwise eludes us and deceives Is here laid out stark naked in the breeze. The desert storms blow specks into our eyes, Which others see as planks to our surprise. Mirage of self reversed in blinding light, While perfect law sees memory take to flight. We find no homely inn in which we can Avoid the lonely places of this land. No shelter here to shield from howling winds, Nor shady vine to mask the prophet’s sins. The fiery serpents silence grumbling plaints Where wild beasts and angels form their ranks. It’s here that streams run dry or else become A highway from the wasteland to our home. For Canaan’s holy hills cannot abide The man whose faith would from the giants hide. Why strike with prodding staff our flinty hearts Or number endless days of bamidbar? The Spirit leads us hither and beyond To deck Golgotha’s cross with Eden’s fronds. And turn Elijah’s tears to John’s firm cry, As our lone grains of wheat fall down to rise.
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