Ang 659

If You are the lamp, then I am the wick. If You are the sacred place of pilgrimage, then I am the pilgrim. ||2|| I am joined in true love with You, Lord. I am joined with You, and I have broken with all others. ||3|| Wherever I go, there I serve You. There is no other Lord Master than You, O Divine Lord. ||4|| Meditating, vibrating upon You, the noose of death is cut away. To attain devotional worship, Ravi Daas sings to You, Lord. ||5||5|| The body is a wall of water, supported by the pillars of air; the egg and sperm are the mortar. The framework is made up of bones, flesh and veins; the poor soul-bird dwells within it. ||1|| O mortal, what is mine, and what is yours? The soul is like a bird perched upon a tree. ||1|| Pause|| You lay the foundation and build the walls. But in the end, three and a half cubits will be your measured space. ||2|| You make your hair beautiful, and wear a stylish turban on your head. But in the end, this body shall be reduced to a pile of ashes. ||3|| Your palaces are lofty, and your brides are beautiful. But without the Lord’s Name, you shall lose the game entirely. ||4|| My social status is low, my ancestry is low, and my life is wretched. I have come to Your Sanctuary, O Luminous Lord, my King; so says Ravi Daas, the shoemaker. ||5||6|| I am a shoemaker, but I do not know how to mend shoes. People come to me to mend their shoes. ||1|| Pause|| I have no awl to stitch them; I have no knife to patch them. ||1|| Mending, mending, people waste their lives and ruin themselves. Without wasting my time mending, I have found the Lord. ||2|| Ravi Daas chants the Lord’s Name; he is not concerned with the Messenger of Death. ||3||7||

RAAG SORAT’H, THE WORD OF DEVOTEE BHEEKHAN JEE, SECOND HOUSE: ONE UNIVERSAL CREATOR GOD. BY THE GRACE OF THE TRUE GURU: Tears well up in my eyes, my body has become weak, and my har has become milky-white. My throat is tight, and I cannot utter even one word; what can I do now? I am a mere mortal. ||1|| O Lord, my King, Gardener of the world-garden, be my Physician, and save me, Your Saint. ||1|| Pause|| My head aches, my body is burning, and my heart is filled with anguish. Such is the disease that has struck me; there is no medicine to cure it. ||2|| The Name of the Lord, the ambrosial, immaculate water, is the best medicine in the world. By Guru’s Grace, says servant Bheekhan, I have found the Door of Salvation. ||3||1|| Such is the Naam, the Name of the Lord, the invaluable jewel, the most sublime wealth, which I have found through good deeds. By various efforts, I have enshrined it within my heart; this jewel cannot be hidden by hiding it. ||1|| The Glorious Praises of the Lord cannot be spoken by speaking. They are like the sweet candies given to a mute. ||1|| Pause|| The tongue speaks, the ears listen, and the mind contemplates the Lord; they find peace and comfort. Says Bheekhan, my eyes are content; wherever I look, there I see the Lord. ||2||2||