Rabindranath Tagore

From the forest branches fading
    birdsong offered
Self-sacrifice to a huge silence.
Dark formlessness settled over all
    diversity
Of land and water.As shadows, as particles,
    my body
Fused with endless night.I came to rest
At the altar of the stars.Alone, amazed,
    I stared
Upwards with hands clasped and said,
    "Sun, you have removed
Your rays: show now your loveliest,
    kindlier form
That I may see the Person who dwells in
    me as in you."
 

Ever in my life have I sought thee with my songs.
It was they who led me from door to door,
and with them I have felt about me,
searching and touching my worlds.
It was my songs that taught me all the lessons I ever learnt;
they showed me secret paths
they brought before my sight
many a star on the horizon of my heart.

I slept and dreamt that life was joy
I woke and saw that life was service
I acted and behold! Service was joy.

In the mountain, stillness surges up
to explore its own height;
In the lake, movement stands still
to contemplate its own depths.

I know not how Thou singest ...
I ever listen in silent amazement.
The light of Thy music illumines the world.
The life breath of Thy music runs from sky to sky.
The holy stream of Thy music breaks through all stony obstacles
and rushes on.
My heart longs to join in Thy song, but vainly struggles for a voice.
I would speak but speech breaks not into song,
and I cry out baffled.
Ah, Thou has made my heart captive in the endless meshes of my music ...

Time after I came to your gate with raised hands asking for more yet more. You gave and gave, now in slow measure, now in sudden excess. I took some, and some things I let drop; some lay heavy on my hands; some I made into playthings and broke them when tired; till the wrecks and hoard of gifts grew immense, hiding You, and the ceaseless expectations wore my heart out.

Take, O take, has now become my cry. Shatter all from the beggar's bowl. Put out this lamp of the importunate watcher; hold my hands, raise me from the still-gathering heap of your gifts into the bare infinity of your uncrowded presence.

Day after day, O God of my life, shall I stand before You face to face? With folded hands, O God of all worlds, shall I stand before You face to face? Under your great sky in solitude and silence, with humble heart shall I stand before You face to face? In this laborious world of yours, tumultuous with toil and struggle, among hurrying crowds, shall I stand before You face to face? And when my work shall be done in this world, O God of All, alone and speechless shall I stand before You face to face?