The JapuJi in Brief O Beloved, Thy name is Truth. Thou art the Person who creates, Thou art the humanity that hath no fear, no enmity. Thy shining spiritual form is above time and space. Thou art immortality, Self-radiant Thou, O Love, Whom no birth can envisage And no death can remove. O Beloved, Sacred, secret is Thy Name, And it opens like the flower of life in the kindness of the Guru. Thou art eternity The beginning Thou, The middle Thou, The end Thou, O Beloved, Thou art beyond the wings of thought, Thou art beyond the plumbings of silence. Without Thee desire is not sated, And all wise proposings sink with sorrow, nothing avails without Thee. Living with Thee, In Thee, O Great Love, Consenting to be Thine for ever and ever is life’s fulfillment. At the signal of Thy brow The forms rise, The souls are cast, And glory gilds the brow even of the smallest, the meanest. At the signal of Thy brow Life is scattered in myriad positions, low and high, And the souls rise up through pain and pleasure. Some are the gifted beings in union with Thee And others wander away, in their orbits, for ever and ever. All is the superb creation of Thy eyes, O Beloved. Thou art. Glory, Glory, O Beloved. All are in Thy sunshine. Thieves, they say, Cut-throats, robbers who live on the other’s blood, Sinners, slanderers, liars They say these are mean and small But when Thou shinest, all is beautiful, I am attracted out of myself, Fascinated by Thee I sacrifice myself to Thee, Glory, glory, O Beloved, All is well. Thy palace is of music made, On its walls the universe breaks in song, Its sky is full of fair dancers, The space resounds with the rhythm of soundless bliss, The rivers and the continents sing Thy Name, O Beloved, The stars beam with Naming Thee The mail-clad warrior is fierce, But his heroic death on the battle-filed sings in faint Tunes of love Thy anthems of personality-music. Thy dreams roll on. Life is inspiration of Thy Beauty, And they are the princes of Heaven who love, who love In that still repose of soul, in the infinite rapture of silence. When one I buds forth into a million, When the voices of the rivers become my voice And the cries of birds on wind my own, And the leaves of the forest and the blades of grass my myriad tongues, When one call of mine to Thee, O Beloved, becomes a million, and that million becomes a million again, And the wheel of the whole Universe moves as a wheel In wheel of song Naming Thee, O Beloved, and ever In harmony with the celestial music within my soul, Of Thy Love. And my once saying “Thou” “Thou”, O Beloved, starts and countless ages of life saying “Thou”, “Thou”. Of this music is made the ladder that rises up to Thee. And they meet Thee who scaling this shining ladder cross the frontier. Beyond, there, up, above, the highest art Thou, O Beloved, And higher floats like the nimbus around Thee Thy song of Naam, And the entrance unto Thy Palaces is according to the assonance of one’s soul; they enter whom Thou callest, And the smiths that make men of themselves toil hard at their craft. They cast and recast their souls in the image of Thee, O Beloved, From near and far, it is the music of life that ascends to Thee. Born of waters, We children of earth Hear news of Thee from the winds. Day and night nurse all life. According to the action of each soul are appointed places for all, be they near or far, Those who Name Thee, Beloved, are perfected, Bright are the faces of the victors who have learnt to live in the maddening music of Thy Presence, O Love, my Love.