Tukaram, Poem 318

I delight to sing Your praises; the mention of Your love tastes sweet in my mouth. Two birds were born upon one tree; a mischievous hunter drew near. He flew a hawk near the tree; he fitted an arrow to his bow. Thereupon the birds remember Thee. “O run to us, consort of Lakshmi, our mother, and father! If we fly up, the hawk will strike us; if we sit still, the hunter will pierce us!” Hearing the birds’ prayer, he assumed with speed a serpent’s form; he bit the hunter and flung him on the ground, his arrow struck the hawk. Thus art Thou merciful to thy servants, a support in time of peril. Tuka says, No speech in the three worlds can describe Thy joy.