Versified from the Talmud

A monarch sat in serious thought, alone, But little reck'd he of his robe and throne; Naught valuing the glory of control, He sought to solve the future of his soul. "Why should I bow the proud, imperious knee, To mighty powers no mortal eye can see?" So mused he long and turned this question o'er, Then, with impatient tread, he paced the floor, Till maddened by conflicting trains of thought And speculation vague, which came to naught, With feverish haste he clutched a tasseled cord As desperate hands, in battle, clutch a sword. "Summon Jehoshua," the monarch cried. The white-haired Rabbi soon was at his side.

"I bow no more to powers I cannot see; Thy faith and learning shall be naught to me, Unless, before the setting of the sun, Mine eyes behold the uncreated one."

The Rabbi led him to the open air. The oriental sun with furious glare Sent down its rays, like beams of molten gold. The aged teacher, pointing, said: "Behold." "I cannot," said the Prince, "my dazzled eyes Refuse their service, turned upon the skies."

"Son of the dust," the Rabbi gently said And bowed, with reverence, his hoary head, "This one creation, thou canst not behold, Though by thy lofty state and pride made bold.

How canst thou then behold the God of Light, Before whose face the sunbeams are as night? Thine eyes before this trifling labor fall, Canst gaze on him who hath created all? Son of the dust, repentance can atone; Return and worship God, who rules alone."