The love of Thee hath leveled down the fort of patience, The pain of Thee hath firmly barred the gate of hope as well. 110 In this realm, instruction is assuredly of no avail. The lover’s teacher is the Loved One’s beauty, His face their lesson and their only book. Learning of wonderment, of longing love their duty, Not on learned chapters and dull themes they look. The chain that binds them is His musky hair, The Cyclic Scheme, 111 to them, is but to Him a stair. 112 Here followeth a supplication to God, the Exalted, the Glorified: O Lord! O Thou Whose bounty granteth wishes! I stand before Thee, all save Thee forgetting.