Glory be unto Thee, O Lord my God! How is the pen to write and the ink to flow, inasmuch as the gentle breezes of affection have been stilled, the daystar of the divine decree hath arisen from the horizon of fulfillment, the sword of tribulation hath been unsheathed from the scabbard of creation, the firmament of sorrow hath been upraised, and the arrows of hardship and the darts of trials have rained down from the clouds of fate, in such wise that the stars of joy in the hearts of Thy loved ones have fallen, every measure of happiness in the souls of Thy chosen ones hath been effaced, and successive tribulations have waxed so severe that no man hath the power to bear them, nor any soul the ability to withstand them. For the doors of hope have been slammed shut, the sweet-scented breezes of fidelity have ceased to waft, and the odours of extinction have been diffused.