Knowledge

a poem by Citraketu dāsa

There's nothing so sublime and pure As knowledge of the soul And loving service to the Lord As part unto the whole.

Of knowledge 'tis the ripened fruit For which the mystics long. Whoever tastes it finds a joy Which makes the spirit strong.

The faithful man who is absorbed In knowledge such as this Can conquer over lust and hate To taste the highest bliss.

The doubting soul can find no joy In this world or the next, The faithless man forever remains Bewildered and perplexed.

But one who is a friend to God And lives for Him alone Can feel a special joy within, To others quite unknown.

Illusion spawned these feverish doubts Which in our heart arise. With sword of knowledge firm in hand Defeat her cunning lies.

Thus armed with knowledge stand and fight. O conqueror of the foe, And God will give you victory Wherever you may go.