The World's Great Religious Poetry

With the rolling firmament, where the starry armies dwell,
Shall melt with fervent heat,-they shall all pass away,
Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye!

NOTE: Bernard Rascas was a Limousin poet who died in 1353. He is said to have been kinsman of the popes Clement VI and Innocent VI. He endowed the Hospital of St. Bernard, at Avignon.

THE UNITY OF GOD

PANATATTU, E. Indian, 10th Century A. D.

Into the bosom of the one great sea

Flow streams that come from hills on every side.
Their names are various as their springs.
And thus in every land do men bow down
To one great God, though known by many names.
This mighty Being we would worship now.

What though the six religions loudly shout
That each alone is true, all else are false?
Yet when in each the wise man worships God,
The great almighty One receives the prayer.

Oh Lord, when may I hope
To find the clue that leads
From out the labyrinth
Of brawling erring sects?

Six blind men once described an elephant
That stood before them all. One felt the back.
The second noticed pendent ears. The third
Could only find the tail. The beauteous tusks
Absorbed the admiration of the fourth.

While of the other two, one grasped the trunk.
The last sought for small things and found

Four thick and clumsy feet. From what each learned,
He drew the beast. Six monsters stood revealed.

And tell their wondrous tales.

Our God is one.

Just so the six religions learned of God,

Men talk of penance, fastings, sacred streams— Make pilgrimage to temples, offer gifts; Performing to the letter all the rules

Of senseless complicated ritual.

Yet are they doomed to sorrow's deepest pain.
Oh, fling such things away and fix thy heart
On rest and peace to come. Seek that alone.

To them that fully know the heavenly truth,
There is no good or ill; nor anything
To be desired, unclean or purely clean.
To them there is no good can come from fast
Or penance pains. To them the earth has naught
For hope or fear, in thought or word or deed.

They hear the four great Vedas shout aloud
That he who has true wisdom in his heart
Can have no thought for fleeting worldly things.
Where God is seen, there can be naught but God.
His heart can have no place for fear or shame,
For caste, uncleanness, hate or wandering thought.
Impure and pure are all alike to him.

TRUE KNOWLEDGE

PANATATTU, E. Indian, 10th Century A. D.

My God is not a chiselled stone,

Or lime-block, so clear and bright:

Nor is he cleaned with tamarind,

Like images of bronze.

I cannot worship such as these,
But loudly make my boast
That in my heart I place the feet,
The golden feet of God.

If He be mine what can I need?

My God is everywhere!

Within, beyond man's highest word,
My God existeth still.

In sacred books, in darkest night,

In deepest, bluest sky,

In those who know the truth, and in

The faithful few on earth;

My God is found in all of these,

But can the Deity

Descend to images of stone

Or copper dark or red?

Whene'er wind blows or compass points,
God's light doth stream and shine,
Yet see yon fool-beneath his arm
He bears the sacred roll.

How carefully he folds the page
And draws the closing string!
See how he binds the living book
That not a leaf escape!

Ah! Yes; the truth should fill his heart,

But 'tis beneath his arm.

To him who "knows," the sun is high;

To this, 'tis starless night.

If still, oh sinful man, with ash

Thou dost besmear thy face,

Or bathest oft, that thus thy soul

May cast away its load,

Thou knowest naught of God, nor of

Regeneration's work.

Your mantras, what are they? The Veds

Are burdened with their weight.

If knowledge be not thine, thou art

As one in deep mid-stream,

A stream so wide that both the banks
Are hidden from thine eyes.

Alas! How long did I adore
The chiselled stone, and serve
An image made of lime or brass
That's cleaned with tamarind.

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