Let Your love play upon my voice and rest on my silence.
Let it pass through my heart into all my movements.
Let Your love, like stars, shine in the darkness of my sleep and dawn in my awakening.
Let it burn in the flame of my desires and flow in all currents of my own love.
Let me carry Your love in my life as a harp does its music, and give it back to You at last with my life.
When You command me to sing, it seems that my heart would break with pride; and I look to Your face, and tears come to my eyes.
All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet harmony
and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea.
I know You take pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer I come before Your presence.
I touch, by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song, Your feet, which I could never aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing, I forget myself, and call You Friend who is my Ruler.
Your gifts to us mortals fulfill all our needs and yet run back to You undiminished.
The river has its everyday work to do and hastens through the fields and hamlets; yet its incessant stream winds toward the washing of Your feet.
The flower sweetens the air with its perfume; yet its last service is to offer itself to You.
Your worship does not diminish the world.
From the words of the poet, people take what meanings please them; yet their last meaning points to You.
Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941). Indian poet, novelist, musician, painter, mystic, cultural reformer and teacher. Winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913. Poems taken from: Rabindranath Tagore. 1997. The Heart of God. Tuttle Publishing: Vermont, EE.UU. Selected and edited by: Herbert F. Vetter.