TOMORROW
LORD, what am I, that with unceasing care
Thou did’st seek after me, that Thou did’st wait
Wet with unhealthy dews before my gate,
And pass the gloomy nights of winter there?
Oh, strange delusion, that I did not greet
Thy blest approach, and oh, to heaven how lost
If my ingratitude’s unkindly frost
Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon Thy feet.
How oft my guardian angel gently cried,
“Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see
How He persists to knock and wait for thee!”
And oh, how often to that Voice of sorrow,
“Tomorrow we will open,” I replied,
And when the morrow came I answered still “Tomorrow.”
-Lope Félix de Vega Carpio (1562 – 1635) Spain
Translation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Source: Hispanic Anthology Poems Translated From The Spanish By English And North American Poets by Thomas Walsh, G.P. Putnams, 1930
Gladsome Lights 
Oh, that’s sad and so convicting. Interesting that it was translated into English by HWL, which must mean he spoke Spanish. I wondered at the “ingratitude”. Could it have been a more literal translation from Spanish or was ingrateful once used in English instead of ungrateful?
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“LORD, what am I, that with unceasing care
Thou did’st seek after me, that Thou did’st wait”
I am drawn to the first two lines of this piece.
Oh my, what a wonderment of His unceasing care for me…for us.
Thank you, Gretchen Joanna.
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