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SLACK is the flame of devotion

When the disciple is sad;

All overbold with emotion

Waxes the heart that is glad.

Thou who in prayerful submission

Kneel’st at the threshold Divine,

Reach forth thy hands and petition,

Ask and the boon shall be thine.

Thou who in folly complainest

Life slips so swiftly away,

Die to thy senses,—thou gainest

Life that is free from decay.

If thou wouldst taste of life’s fountain

Khizra shall second thy quest;

Follow o’er desert and mountain,

Ask for the cup of the blest.

Long hast thou roamed in the garden,

Footsore, astray in the night;

Turn to the Gardener for pardon,

Ask of Him leading and light.

Makhfi, the aims that you nourish

Fade in the noontide of sloth;

Drench them with tears and they flourish;

Thence cometh increase and growth.