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If our generals had not led the invading army,
the kings would have safely kept their thrones.
If you, Master, did not lead us through our
struggles, we would rarely be victorious.
Moth, how strong you have become as you
worship the flame! This is your fate:
to love in vain, then die. You scorn despair:
In death you will be one with your desire.
Cruel Love, God will repay your tyranny in full
on Judgment Day. All the innocence your
arrogance has slaughtered will be avenged;
blood will run as black as on the killing fields.
Judge, find pity in your heart for sinners.
The memory of disgrace, humiliation, shame,
despair that stings and goads us to repent —
won’t these be punishment enough?
Weary wanderers, we lose our way in the
desert of this world. But Love appears,
beckons and blesses, points to a pathway
through the confusion. Love leads us home.
