Thou Art All
Srinivasa
Rangaswamy
As I stand before Thee
in prayer, a thousand thoughts
turbulent like the wind
take hold of me.
A small boat in a stormy sea,
mast half-broken,
buffeted by ceaseless mortal cares,
I struggle in vain
to trim my sails
steadfast home towards you.
In Kurukshetra’s battle field
the other day, a faltering soul
Thou lifted up.
The divine eye Thou gavest
Thyself, unto the devotee, to see
what mortal eyes can’t bear to see-
Thine Divine form,
By supreme grace revealed.
Thou art all:
the Shepard-
the sheep-
and the mountain path
Why then this sport?
Frail that I am,
even as I am,
accept.
And by Thine boundless Grace
Plant me secure, safe, ever
in THEE.