For Destiny to them brings only sweetness.
Welcome is all that ever can befal them,
For were it fire it turns to living waters.
The poison melts to sugar on their lip;
The mire they tread is lustrous diamond,
And weal and woe alike, whatever comes.
They and their kingdom lie in God’s divineness.
To pray, ‘O Lord, turn back this trouble from me,’
They count an insult to the hand that sent it.
Faithful they are, but not for Paradise;