To The Lotus feet of My Most Holy-Master • (Shree Shreemat Lord Garudeva)

 (pendiente por traducir)


Whose Mercy makes the mute discourse, •

The cripple scale the steep ;

Him adore I the blissful source •

Of Divine wisdom deep.


1. I toiled in this vale of grief and tears

In the dark thunderstorm of Life

When the shelter of Thy Lotus Feet •

Safe shielded me from the strike. 


2. The balm of Thy Holy touch •

Healed my Soul’s rooted sorrow, ;

The fragrance of Thy lotus-dust :

Enraptured me all the morrow. •


3. The kind words that fell from Thy lips •

Like softest music stole my soul. 

The inspiration of Thy Holy Self

Ever led me on to my goal. ;


4. Tlie vision of Thy radiant Being •

Cheers me on Life’s dreary way, ;

Thy gracious smile Thy charming mien •

Flash in the mind night and day.


5. Thy compassion for the sinner knows no bound

Whereof my lowly self an example stands

Sunk in the deepest mire of lust and crime

Still redeemed by Thy merciful hands, ;


6. With folded hands and bended knees 

To Thee (Lord) piteously I pray ;

Not for a moment from Thy Lotus-feet •

May I ever stray away, your Brjiwasi das ;

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