Of what forms myriad, of what repose,

Of what movements varied, who can reckon?

Millions of moons, millions of suns,

Taking their birth in that very ocean,

Rushing headlong with din tumultuous,

Overspread the whole firmament, drowning

The points of heaven in light effulgent.

In it arise and reside what beings,

Quick with life, dull, and lifeless - unnumbered,

And pleasure and pain, disease, birth, and death!

Verily, the Sun is He, His the ray,

Nay, the Sun is He, and He is the ray.

THE HYMN OF SAMADHI (Rendered from Bengali) Lo! The sun is not, nor the comely moon,

All light extinct; in the great void of space Floats shadow-like the image-universe.

In the void of mind involute, there floats

The fleeting universe, rises and floats,

Sinks again, ceaseless, in the current "I".

Slowly, slowly, the shadow-multitude

Entered the primal womb, and flowed ceaseless, The only current, the "I am", "I am".

Lo! 'Tis stopped, ev'n that current flows no more, Void merged into void - beyond speech and mind! Whose heart understands, he verily does.

A HYMN TO THE DIVINE MOTHER.

O Thou most beautiful! Whose holy hands

Hold pleasure and hold pain! Doer of good! Who art Thou? The water of existence

By Thee is whirled and tossed in mighty waves. Is it, O Mother, to restore again

This universe's broken harmony

That Thou, without cessation, art at work?

Oh! May the Mother of the universe -

In whose activity no respite rests,

Incessantly distributing the fruits

Of action done, guiding unceasingly

All action yet to come - bestow Her boon

Of blessing on me, Her child, for evermore.

I realise, I know, that it is Thou