The Thorn in the Flesh

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The Thorn in the Flesh

Within my heart a worm had long been hid.

I knew it not when I went down and chid

Because some servants of my inner house

Had not, I found, of late been doing well,

But then I spied the horror hideous

Dwelling defiant in the inmost cell⁠—

No, not the inmost, for there God did dwell!

But the small monster, softly burrowing,

Near by God’s chamber had made itself a den,

And lay in it and grew, the noisome thing!

Aghast I prayed⁠—’twas time I did pray then!

But as I prayed it seemed the loathsome shape

Grew livelier, and did so gnaw and scrape

That I grew faint. Whereon to me he said⁠—

Some one, that is, who held my swimming head,

“Lo, I am with thee: let him do his worst;

The creature is, but not his work, accurst;

Thou hating him, he is as a thing dead.”

Then I lay still, nor thought, only endured.

At last I said, “Lo, now I am inured

A burgess of Pain’s town!” The pain grew worse.

Then I cried out as if my heart would break.

But he, whom, in the fretting, sickening ache,

I had forgotten, spoke: “The law of the universe

Is this,” he said: “Weakness shall be the nurse

Of strength. The help I had will serve thee too.”

So I took courage and did bear anew.

At last, through bones and flesh and shrinking skin,

Lo, the thing ate his way, and light came in,

And the thing died. I knew then what it meant,

And, turning, saw the Lord on whom I leant.