courtesy of Sri Ramakrishna & Co.

Again Narendra/Vivekananda sang, upon one occasion or another: This universe, wondrous and infinite, O Lord, is thy handiwork; and the whole world is a treasure-house full of thy beauty and grace. The stars glisten innumerable, like gems on a necklace of gold; how can the myriad suns and moons ever be numbered above? The earth is glowing with grain and gold, thine ever-brimming store; uncounted stars, o God, sing forth: blessed, blessed art Thou! Again: Upon the tray of the sky blaze bright the lamps of sun and moon; like diamonds shine the glittering stars to deck thy wondrous form. The sweet Malaya breeze blows soft, for fragrant incense smoke; the moving air sways to and fro the fan before thy holy face; like gleaming votive lights the fresh and flowery groves appear. How wonderful thy worship is, o Slayer of birth and death! The sacred Aum, from space arisen, is the resounding drum. My mind craves nectar day and night at Hari's lotus feet; oh, shower the waters of thy grace on thirsty Nanak (a Guru of Punjab, author of song), blessed Lord; and may thy hallowed name become his everlasting home! Again: Shiva, thy ready thunderbolt rules over meadow, hill and sky! O God of Gods! O Slayer of time! Thou the great void, the king of dharma! Shiva, Thou Blessed, redeem me; take away my grievous sin. Again: Fasten your mind, o man, on the primal purusha (fire-breath), cause of all causes, the stainless One, beginningless Truth. As prana He pervades the universe; the man of faith beholds Him, living, resplendent, Root of all. Beyond the senses, eternal, essence of consciousness, shining in the heart-cave, adorned with holiness, wisdom and love; by meditating on Him, man is delivered. Of countenance ever serene, an inexhaustible ocean of virtue, none can fathom his depths; yet freely, of grace, does He reveal Himself to those who come to his feet for shelter, merciful since they are helpless and He ever-forgiving, the giver of happiness, the ready help in the sea of our woe. Unswervingly just, bestowing the fruit of deeds, good and ill, yet is He the fount of compassion, the ocean of mercy brimming with love; even to hear of his glory suffuses eye with tears. Gaze on his face and be blest: your heart is hungry for Him, o man! Bright with unspeakable beauty, peerless and without stain, no words can ever describe Him; be as a beggar before his gate and worship Him day and night, beseeching Him for grace. Again: Come, come! Mother! Darling of my soul! My heart's delight! In my heart's lotus come sit, that I may see thy face. Alas! sweet Mother, even from birth I have suffered much; but I have borne it all, Thou knowest, gazing at Thee. Open the lotus of my heart, dear Mother! Reveal Thyself there. Again: In dense darkness, o Mother, thy formless beauty sparkles; therefore the yogis meditate in a dark mountain cave; in the lap of boundless dark, on mahanirvana's waves upborne, peace flows serene and inexhaustible. Taking the form of the void, in the robe of darkness wrapped, Who art Thou, Mother, seated alone in the shrine of samadhi? From the lotus of thy fear-scattering feet flash thy love's lightnings; thy spirit-face shines forth with laughter terrible and loud! Again: Be drunk, o mind, be drunk with the wine of heavenly bliss: roll on the ground and weep, chanting Hari's sweet name! Fill the arching heavens with your deep lion-roar, singing Hari's sweet name! With both your arms upraised, dance in the name of Hari and give his name to all. Swim by day and by night in the bliss of Hari's love; slay desire with his name, and blessed be your life! The Master improvised: Be drunk with prema (ecstatic love) and weep, chanting Hari's sweet name....Then Shri Ramakrishna sang of Chaitanya/Gaur, a saint: Who has brought Gaur to Nadia--Gaur, whose beauty delights the world? His face, covered with ringlets of hair, shines like lightning against a dark cloud....Then of a gopi the Master sang: I have not found my Krishna, o friend! How cheerless my home without Him! Ah, if Krishna could only be the hair upon my head, carefully I should braid it then and deck it with bakul-flowers; carefully I should fashion the braids out of my Krishna-hair. Krishna is black, black my hair; black one with black. Ah, if Krishna could only be the ring in my nose, always from my nose He would hang, and my two lips could touch Him. But it can never be, alas! Why should I idly dream? Should Krishna care at all to be the ring in my nose? Ah if Krishna could only be the bracelets on my arms, always He would cling to my wrists, and proudly I should walk, shaking my bracelets to make them sound, shaking my arms to show them; down the king's highway I should walk, wearing my Krishna-bracelets. 6-30-1884, Dakshineswar, Sri Ramakrishna in his room sang: Who is there that can understand what Mother Kali is? Even the six darshanas (philosophic schools) are powerless to reveal Her. It is She, the scriptures say, that is the Inner Self of the yogi, who in Self discovers all his joy; She that, of her own sweet will, inhabits every living thing. The macrocosm and microcosm is the Mother's womb; now do you see how vast it is? In the Muladhara the yogi meditates on Her, and in the Sahasrara (base and crown chakras): who but Shiva has beheld Her as She really is? Within the lotus wilderness She sports beside her mate, the Swan. When man aspires to understand Her, Ramprasad must smile; to think of knowing Her, he says, is quite as laughable as to imagine one can swim across the boundless sea. But while my mind has understood, alas! my heart has not; though but a dwarf, it still would strive to make a captive of the moon.


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