At Dakshineswar on 6-13-1885 Trailokya sang: I have joined my heart to Thee: all that exists, Thee only have I found, Thou the all. O Lord, beloved of my heart! Thou the home of all; where indeed the heart in which You do not dwell? Whether sage or fool, Hindu or Mussalman, Thou makes them as Thou wilt: Thou the all. Thy Presence everywhere in heaven or in Kaaba; before Thee all bow, Thou the all. From earth to heaven, I see Thee wherever I look. Pondering, I have understood, beyond all doubt, I find no single thing comparable. To Jafar it has been revealed: Thou the all. Thou my all in all, o Lord! life of my life, essence of essence; in the 3 worlds I have none but Thee to call my own. Thou my peace, joy, hope, support, wealth, glory, wisdom and strength; my home, rest, friend, next of kin, present, future, heaven and salvation. Thou my scriptures, commandment, Guru, spring of bliss, way, goal and adorable One, o Lord! Thou the Mother tender-hearted, the chastening Father, Helmsman who steers my craft across life's sea.

Wednesday, Nov 15, 1882 at Balaram Bose's Calcutta house Shri Ramakrishna sang: Mother! Mother! My boat is sinking, here in the ocean of this world; fiercely the hurricane of delusion rages on every side! Clumsy is my helmsman, the mind; stubborn my six oarsmen, the passions; into a pitiless wind I sailed my boat, and now it is sinking! Split is the rudder of devotion; tattered the sail of faith; into my boat the waters pour! Tell me, what to do? For with my failing eyes, alas! nothing but darkness do I see. Here in the waves I will swim, O Mother, and cling to the raft of thy name!

April 8, 1883, Sunday, Shri R at Dakshineswar sang: O Mother, I have no one else to blame: Alas! I sink in the well these very hands have dug. With the six passions for my spade, I dug a pit in the sacred land of earth; and now the dark water of death gushes forth! How can I save myself, o my Redeemer? Surely I have been my own enemy; how can I now ward off this dark water of death? Behold, the waters rise to my chest! How can I save myself? O Mother, save me! Thou my only refuge; with thy protecting glance take me across to the other shore of the world. Then Ramlal and a Dakshineswar official sang: The dark cloud of the summer storm fades into nothingness, when, flute in hand and a smile, lighting the world with his loveliness, Krishna, the Dark One, appears. His dazzling yellow robe outgleams even lightning's glare, a wreath of wildflowers interwoven gently swings from his youthful breast and softly kisses his feet. See, there He stands, Lord of life, Moon of Nanda's line, outshining all the moons in heaven and with the splendor of his rays flooding the Jamuna's bank! He stands, stealing maiden's hearts, luring them from hearth and home. Krishna enters my own heart's shrine, and with his flute-note steals away wisdom, life and soul. To whom shall Ganga N pour out his tale of woe? Ah, friend, you might have understood had you but gone to the Jamuna's bank to fill your waterjar! Shri R sang: To arms! To arms, o man! Death storms your home in battle array! Bearing the quiver of knowledge, mount the chariot of devotion; bend the bow of your tongue with the bowstring of love, and aim at him the shaft of Mother Kali's holy name. Here is a ruse for the fray: you need no chariot or charioteer; fight your foe from the Ganga's bank, and he is easily slain.

The next Sunday was a festival of the Mother, musicians at Dakshineswar sang: Radha and Krishna are joined at last in the Nidhu Grove of Vrindavan; incomparable their beauty, limitless their love! The one half shines like yellow gold, the other like bluest sapphire; round the neck, on one side, a wildflower garland hangs, and on the other there swings a necklace of precious gems. A ring of gold adorns one ear, a ring of shell the other; half the brow is bright as the blazing noontide sun, the other softly gleams with the glow of the rising moon. Upon one half of the head a graceful peacock feather stands, and from the other there hangs a braid of hair. The Master sang: Repeat, o mind, my Mother Durga's hallowed name! Whoever treads the path, repeating Durga! Durga!, Shiva Himself protects with his almighty trident. Thou the day, Mother, the dusk and night. Sometimes Thou art man, sometimes woman. Thou may even tell me: Step aside! Go away! Yet I shall cling to Thee, o Durga! Unto thy feet as thine anklets I shall cling in tinkling sound. Mother, when as the kite-bird Thou soarest, there in the water beneath as minnow I shall swim; upon me pounce, pierce me thru with thy claws. Thus, when the breath of life forsakes me in thy grip, do not deny me the shelter of thy lotus feet!

Sunday June 17, 1883 at Dakshineswar Shri R sang: O mind, you do not know how to farm! Fallow lies the field of your life. If you had only worked it well, how rich a harvest you might reap! Hedge it about with Kali's name if you would keep your harvest safe; this is the stoutest hedge of all, for Death himself cannot come near it. Sooner or later will dawn the day when you must forfeit your precious field; gather, o mind, what fruit you may. Sow for your seed the holy name of God that your Guru has given to you, faithfully watering it with love; and if you should find the task too hard, call upon Ramprasad for help.

At the Durga festival of Oct 10, 1883 at Adhar's Calcutta house the Master sang: My mind is overwhelmed with wonder, pondering the Mother's mystery; her very name removes the fear of Kala, Death himself; beneath her feet lies Mahakala. Why should her hue be kala, black? Many the shades of black, but She appears astoundingly black; when contemplated in the heart, She lights the lotus that blossoms there. Her form is black, She blacker than black! Beholding Her, man is bewitched for evermore; no other form can he enjoy. In wonderment asks Ramprasad: Where dwells this Woman so amazing? At her mere name his mind becomes absorbed at once in Her, though he has never yet beheld Her.

At Dakshineswar on Sunday Sept 7, 1884 Shri R sang: How shall I open my heart, o friend? It is forbidden me to speak. I am about to die for lack of a kindred soul to understand my misery. Simply by looking in his eyes, I find the beloved of my heart; but rare is such a soul who swims in ecstatic bliss on the hightide of heavenly love.

At the Durga festival of Oct 4, 1884 at Nabin Sen's Calcutta house Brahmo devotees sang to drums: O Mother, how deep is thy love for men! Mindful of it, I weep for joy. Almost from the day of my birth I have transgressed thine every law. Still Thou looks on me with love, comforting me with sweetest words. Mindful of it, I weep for joy. O Mother, the burden of thy love is far too great for me to bear; my soul gives a heart-piercing cry at thy love's touch. To Thee I come, seeking a refuge at thy feet.

On the night of the Kali festival of Oct 18, 1884 with intense fervor Shri Ramakrishna sang: All creation is the sport of my mad Mother Kali; by her maya the three worlds are bewitched. Mad is She and mad her Husband; mad her two disciples! None can describe her loveliness, glory, gesture, modes; Shiva with the poison-agony in his throat chants her name again and again. The Personal does She oppose to the Impersonal, breaking one stone with another; though to all else She is agreeable, where duties are concerned She will not yield. Keep your raft, says Ramprasad, afloat on life's sea, drifting up with floodtide, down with ebb. **** ****