Tukaram, Poem 1520

How can I cry out against him, so long as I cannot fathom him? In past time no one was ever heard to reproach him, I must not speak whirling words. Sometimes I seem to have lost him, but I am not discouraged; this is my own actual experience. My own ill-luck may keep me waiting; why should I not wait till the moment comes? Tuka says. He will make the end sweet; I know many had to wait for Him.