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

whither all the land resorts,
Sing we. And, freed from deeds that bondage bring,
singing, POUND WE THE DUST OF GOD ! (16)
V.
Ayan and Ari shall their garlands bring!
not Indra, nor with him the deathless ones,
Nor all the perfumed hosts of gods, save after us,
the pestle suffer we to lift
Sing we the golden shrine of sacred Ëkamban
the Bowman Who smote three forts of his foes,
Ye of smiling roseate lips ! for the three-eyed Sire's
dance—POUND WE THE DUST OF GOLD ! (20)
VI.
Many a pestle would the great ones upraise;
that the world would not serve for a mortar,
To mix the fragrant dust the saints crowd round,
that the worlds suffice not to behold.
In favouring love He made us slaves His own;
and gave His flowery Feet to crown our brows,
To the mountains Son-in-law, joyous ever,
sing we and POUND THE DUST OF GOLD ! (24)
VII.
While the golden armlets tinkling sound;
while the saintly bands uprising chant;
While townsfolk greet us with loud acclaim;
while them we greet with answering shout;
The Partner of the Queen, on whose soft feet
the anklets tinkling sound,—our God,
The King, like mighty mount of purest gold,
To serve, POUND WE THE DUST OF GOLD ! (28)
VIII.
Ye simple maidens fair, with bright wide eyes,
while armlets tinkle, bosoms heave and swell,
While shoulders gleam with ashes pure,
proclaim ye ever praises of our Lord,
Who showed His bright flower-Foot, and in this world
made us, lower than very dogs His own !
His ways of grace, sing o'er and o'er, and Him
to serve, POUND WE THE SACRED DUST OF GOLD ! (32)
IX.
Let the whole earth be the mortar;
as pestle plant Meru the lofty;
Saffron of truth pour forth in copious stream.
Him Who in southern Perun-turrai dwells