Tukaram, Poem 2064

I cry to Thee for mercy; I venture further and further. Thou hast a treasure of Thy own; if Thou shouldest come to remove our poverty, Thou needest not to delay. Thy hand that removes all fear is enough; in Thee is a fit dwelling place for the poor. I have given up all desires, lest my mind should run after anything; I leave my mind no scope, I keep it under control. Such are my aspirations, that I give no thought to fit time or season; Tuka wakes you by singing your praises.