Master, this is Thy Servant. He is rising eight weeks old. He is mainly Head and Tummy. His legs are uncontrolled. But Thou hast forgiven his ugliness, and settled him on Thy Knee ... Art Thou content with Thy Servant? He is very comfy with Thee.
Master, behold a Sinner! He hath committed a wrong. He hath defiled Thy Premises through being kept in too long. Wherefore his nose has been rubbed in the dirt, and his self-respect has been bruised. Master, pardon Thy Sinner, and see he is properly loosed.
Master - again Thy Sinner! This that was once Thy Shoe, He has found and taken and carried aside, as fitting matter to chew. Now there is neither blacking nor tongue, and the Housemaid has us in tow. Master, remember Thy Servant is young, and tell her to let him go.
Master, extol Thy Servant, he has met a most Worthy Foe! There has been fighting all over the Shop - and into the Shop also! Till cruel umbrellas parted the strife (or I might have been choking him yet), But Thy Servant has had the Time of his Life - and now shall we call the vet?
Master, behold Thy Servant! Strange children came to play, and because they fought to caress him, Thy Servant wentedst away. But now that the Little Beasts have gone, he has returned to see (Brushed - with his Sunday collar on) what they left over from tea.
Master, pity Thy Servant! He is deaf and three parts blind. He cannot catch Thy Commandments. He cannot read Thy Mind. Oh, leave him not to his loneliness; nor make him that kitten's scorn. He hath had none other God than Thee since the year that he was born.
Lord, look down on Thy Servant! Bad things have come to pass. There is no heat in the midday sun, nor health in the wayside grass. His bones are full of an old disease - his torments run and increase. Lord, make haste with Thy Lightnings and grant him quick release.
*****
I PRAY! My little body and whole span
Of years is Thine, my Owner and my Man.
For Thou hast made me - unto Thee I owe
This dim, distressed half-soul that hurts me so,
Compact of every crime, but, none the less,
Broken by knowledge of its naughtiness.
Put me not from Thy Life - ’tis all I know.
If Thou forsake me, whither shall I go?
Thine is the Voice with which my Day begins:
Thy Foot my refuge, even in my sins.
Thine Honour hurls me forth to testify
Against the Unclean and Wicked passing by.
(But when Thou callest they are of Thy Friends,
Who readier than I to make amends?)
I was Thy Deputy with high and low -
If Thou dismiss me, whither shall I go?
I have been driven forth on gross offence
That took no reckoning of my penitence,
And, in my desolation - faithless me! -
Have crept for comfort to a woman’s knee!
Now I return, self-drawn, to meet the just
Reward of Riot, Theft and Breach of Trust.
Put me not from Thy Life - though this is so.
If Thou forsake me, whither shall I go?
Into The Presence, flattening while I crawl -
From head to tail, I do confess it all.
Mine was the fault - deal me the stripes - but spare
The Pointed Finger which I cannot bear!
The Dreadful Tone in which my Name is named,
That sends me ’neath the sofa-frill ashamed!
(Yet, to be near Thee, I would face that woe.)
If Thou reject me, whither shall I go?
Can a gift turn Thee? I will bring mine all -
My Secret Bone, my Throwing-Stick, my Ball.
Or wouldst Thou sport? Then watch me hunt awhile,
Chasing, not after conies, but Thy Smile,
Content, as breathless on the turf I sit,
Thou shouldst deride my little legs and wit -
Ah! Keep me in Thy Life for a fool’s show!
If Thou deny me, whither shall I go! …
Is the Dark gone? The Light of Eyes restored?
The Countenance turned meward, O my Lord?
The Paw accepted, and - for all to see -
The Abject Sinner throned upon the Knee?
The Ears bewrung, and Muzzle scratched because
He is forgiven, and All is as It was?
Now am I in Thy Life, and since ’tis so -
That Cat awaits the Judgment. May I go?
(Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936))
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