From Recovery
14 February 1941
'Sweet is the world, sweet the dust of it.'
This great hymn I chant in my heart.
It makes my life significant.
Day after day the gems of truth come to me
As a gift — their loveliness dims not.
Therefore at the border of death, this great hymn -=
'Sweet is the world, sweet the dust of it' —
Echoes in the heart of Joy.
When I take with me the last touch of earth,
I shall proclaim:
'The mark of Victory, written in dust, is on my brow.'
Behind the Maya of evil
I have seen the light of the eternal.
Truth's loveliness has taken form in earth's dust —
Knowing this, I salute the dust.
Bathed in morning light
All things are made holy and beautiful.
The formless One, the limitless,
With its touchstone creates forms of Joy.
Under the altar of the ever-old
Is consecrated the ever-new.
In sunshine and shadow,
Is woven the cloth of earth
With threads of green and blue.
The leaves dance in rhythm
With the heart-beat of the sky.
From forest to forest,
On the neck of morning
Sparkles the necklace of diamond.
The random songs of birds
Chant their praises to the goddess of life.
The love in the heart of man,
Joined to all these,
Gives them the touch of immortality —
It makes sweet the dust of earth
And spreads over it
The throne of Eternal Man.
'Begetter of this earth!
In whose glorious light
Man first beheld the veritable form of God —
If full-throated I could chant the Vedic hymns,
Then my praise
Would have mingled with all this light.'
But words fail;
I only gaze at the Far Beyond,
And spread my silence over the pale midday sky.
In this deserted room,
On this silent morn,
I sit before my window.
One hears the song of the green
Pouring out in rhythm.
Under the light of the blue sky
The mind floats on the stream
That flows from the fount of immortality.
To whom shall I send my hymn of praise
This yearning of my heart?
It seeks voice to give value
To that which is beyond all value —
But it remains silent.
It only says: 'I am happy.'
The rhythm comes to a stop,
But its cadence says: 'I am blest.'
