Narendra, May 1887, Calcutta, sang on: Where are you seeking Me, My servant? I AM very close to you. Far away you still are seeking, though I AM so very near. I AM not in skin or hair, bone or flesh, mosque or temple, in Kashi or Kailash. Nor in Ayodhya or Dwaraka, but you will find Me if you search where faith abides. Not in pleasantry or yoga, renunciation or monastery, yet I come without delay if one but searches for Me. Hail to Thee, God! Giver of every blessing! Hail, Thou provider! O Redeemer from fear, danger and suffering! Upholder, hail! Victory to Thee! Thou All-Compassionate, universally adored, I bow before thy feet, only refuge! Hail! Victory to Thee! This our only prayer, what other boon implore? Grant us true wisdom here, and in the life everlasting reveal Thyself to us. Hail! Victory to Thee! Drinking the bliss of Hari from prema's cup, sadhu, be intoxicated! Childhood you spent in crying, youth in women's control; now in old age, full of phlegm and wind, you wait for the funeral couch to cremation. Within the musk-deer's navel the musk is found; but how understand? Without the proper teacher to guide, man is blindly roaming the world, deluded as foolish deer that wander round and round the woods.

On Oct 27, 1885 at Dakshineswar Narendra sang: O Mother, Thou my inner guide, ever awake within my heart! Day and night Thou holds me in thy lap. Why show such tenderness to this unworthy child? Ah! It seems Thou art mad with love: now caressing, now with strong grasp holding me firm, Thou gives me to drink thy nectar, pouring in my ears words of loving tenderness. Unceasing thy love for me, that cannot see fault; whenever I am in danger, Thou saves me. Saviour of sinners! I know the truth: I am my Mother's, She is mine. Now I listen to Her alone, following righteousness, drinking the milk flowing from her breasts, I shall be strong and sing with joy: Hail, Mother! Brahman Eternal! O gracious Lord, if like a bee my soul cannot imbed itself deep in the lotus of thy feet, what comfort can I find in life? What can I gain with wealth untold, neglecting Thee, supreme wealth? I take no pleasure in the sight of the most lovely infant's face, if all its loveliness reveals no trace of thy dear features there. Moonlight is meaningless to me as darkest night, if thy love's moon rise not in my soul's firmament. The purest wife's unspotted love is stained, if in it is not set the priceless gem of love divine. O Lord, whenever doubt of Thee, born of base error and neglect, assails my mind, I writhe in pain as from a serpent's poisonous fangs! What more, o Master, shall I say? Thou art my heart's most precious jewel, home of everlasting joy. What matchless beauty! What a bewitching face I behold! The sovereign of my soul has entered my lowly hut; the springs of my love are welling forth on every side. Tell me, my beloved! O Thou, Lord of my heart! What treasure shall I lay before thy lotus feet? Take Thou my life, my soul; what more can I offer? Take everything, deign to accept my all. O gracious Lord, if like a bee my soul cannot imbed itself...(this time accompanied by tampura and mridanga) Oh, when will dawn the blessed day when Love wakens in my heart? When will my tears flow uncontrolled as I repeat Lord Hari's name, and all my longing be fulfilled? When all my craving for the world will vanish straightway from my heart and with the thrill of his holy name all my hair stand on end? Oh, when will dawn that blessed day? Then Shri Ramakrishna sang: Come, let us go for a walk, o mind, to Kali, the Wish-fulfilling Tree, and there beneath it gather the four fruits of life. Of your two wives Dispassion and Worldliness, bring along Dispassion only, on your way to the Tree, and ask her son Discrimination about the Truth. When will you learn to lie, o mind, in the abode of blessedness, with cleanliness and defilement on either side of you? Only when you find the way to keep these wives contentedly under one roof will you behold the matchless form of Mother Shyama. Ego and Ignorance, your parents, instantly banish from your sight; and should Delusion seek to drag you to its hole, manfully cling to the pillar of Patience. Tie to the post of Unconcern the goats of Vice and Virtue, killing them with the sword of Knowledge if they rebel. With the children of Worldliness, your first wife, plead from a goodly distance, and if they will not listen, drown them in Wisdom's sea. Says Ramprasad: If you do as I say, you can submit a good account, o mind, to the King of Death, and I shall be well pleased with you and call you my darling. March 11, 1883, Dakshineswar garden, Master and devotees singing and dancing: High in the heaven of the Mother's feet, my mind was soaring like a kite, when came a blast of sin's rough wind that drove it swiftly toward the earth. Maya disturbed its even flight by bearing down upon one side, and I could make it rise no more. Entangled in the twisting string of love for children and wife, alas! my kite was rent in twain. It lost its crest of wisdom soon and downward plunged as I let it go; how could it hope to fly again, when all its top was torn away? Though fastened with devotion's cord, it came to grief in playing here; its six opponents (passions) worsted it. Now Nareschandra rues this game of smiles and tears, and thinks it better never to have played at all. The black bee of my mind is drawn in sheer joy to the blue lotus flower of Mother Shyama's feet, the blue flower of Kali's feet, Shiva's consort; tasteless to the bee are desire's blossoms. My Mother's feet are black and black too the bee; black is made one with black! This much of the mystery my mortal eyes behold, then hastily retreat. But Kamalakanta's hopes are answered at last; he swims in the sea of bliss, unmoved by joy or pain. O Mother, what a machine is this that Thou made! What pranks Thou plays with this toy three and a half cubits high! Hiding Thyself within, Thou holds the guiding string; but the machine, not knowing it, still believes it moves by itself. Whoever finds the Mother remains a machine no more; yet some machines have even bound the Mother Herself with the string of Love.

Saturday dusk, July 21, 1883, Adhar's house in Calcutta, Ramlal sang: Thy name, I have heard, o consort of Shiva, is the destroyer of our fear, and so on Thee I cast my burden: save me! save me, kindly Mother! Out of thy womb the world is born, and Thou it is that pervades it. Art Thou Kali or Radha? Who can ever rightly say? Mother, in every living creature Thou has thy dwellingplace; as Kundalini Thou dost live in the lotus of Muladhara. Above it lies the Svadhisthana where the six-petalled violet lotus blooms; at the navel is Manipura, the "blue" ten-petalled lotus; thru sushumna's pathway Mother ascends--o Lady of the lotuses! Beyond these lies the lake of nectar of the heart, where twelve-pettaled flower enchants. When Thou dost open it, o Mother, touching it with thy lotus feet, the age-long darkness of the heart instantly scatters at thy sight. Then the sixteen-petalled throat--within there lies concealed a subtle space, transcending which, one sees at length things dissolve to void. Higher yet, between eyebrows, blossoms the lotus of "two" petals, where the mind of man remains a prisoner and past controlling. From this flower the mind desires to watch the sportive play. Highest of all shines the thousand-petalled lotus, Mahadeva's dwellingplace. Having ascended to his throne, o spouse of Shiva, sit beside Him! Thou art the primal power, Mother! She whose senses are controlled; the yogis meditate on Thee as Uma, great Himalaya's daughter. Thou art Shiva's power! Put to death my ceaseless cravings; grant that I never fall again into the ocean of this world. Mother, Thou the primal power, five cosmic principles; who can ever hope to know Thee Who art beyond? Only for thy bhaktas' sake Thou assumes various forms; but when thy devotee's five senses merge in the five elements, Mother, it is Thyself alone that he beholds as formless Truth.