tiruvAcagam or The Sacred Utterances of the Tamil Poet, Saint and ...

o'er birth and death. In torrent plunged of lust
And guile, behold me, spotless Hill of gems !
Father ! 'Twas such an one Thou mad'st Thine own ! (96)
XXV. The mystery of His being.
Thy colour is not red,-nor white Thy form;-
Thou'rt Many, One; Atom, than Atom far
Subtler; the heavenly host in 'wildered thought
know not the way, Father, to reach Thy feet.
Thou showd'st Thy form, Thy beauty didst display
didst show Thy now'ry feet ! Me wandering, Thine
Thou mad'st, safeguarding me from future ' birth ' !
Our PerumAn, what shall I say, what THINK ? (100)
XXVI. Wonders of grace.
Thou mad'st my THOUGHT Thy THOUGHT ! Of me, mere cur,
Thou mad'st the eye rest on Thy foot's blest flower,
Thou mad'st me bow before that flower alone ! My mouth
Thou mad'st to speak abroad Thy gem-like word !
My senses five to fill Thou cam'st, and mad'st me Thine.
Ambrosial Sea of magic might ! O Mount ! Thyself
Thou gav'st, Thy form like wild of roseate lotus flowers,
to LONELY helpless me. Thou Only-Light ! (104)
XXVII. The voyage
I, LONELY, tost by billows broad of anguish sore,
on the great ' sea of birth,' with none to aid;
Disturbed by winds of mouths roseate like ripened fruit,
lay caught in jaws of the sea monster lust !
' Henceforth,what way to 'scape ? ' I frequent cried ! then thought,
and seiz'd the raft of Thy Five Letters ! So to me,
O Primal One, Thou showd'st a boundless fertile shore,
and mad'st the rash insensate one Thine own ! (108)
XXVIII. What He did for me.
Him none by hearing know; He knoweth no decay;
He hath no kin; naught asking, heareth all !
While people of the land beheld, here on this earth
to me, a cur, He gave a royal seat;
To me, a dog, all things not shown before, He showed;
all things not heard before, He caused to hear;
And guarding me from future ' birth,' He made me His.
Such is the wondrous work our Lord hath wrought for me ! 112
XXIX. His appearing.
The WONDER this ! Say, is there aught like this ?
He made me servant of His loving saints;
Dispell'd my fear, ambrosia pouring forth, He came,
and while my soul dissolv'd, in love made me His own;