I have placed my capital in the power of the false, so my business must end in a loss. How then, with what face must I expect to look on Thee? I find myself a prisoner in the womb. I am dyed with the hue of objects dug from the four mines, through consorting with good and bad. Vexations from many sources have changed me much; the course of time has deeply dyed me. I can no more undo the folds that envelop me, so as to show what is within. Transform me, therefore, says Tuka, by placing me near Thee; make a little cowherd of me, O God!
Are those few whom you saved in ancient days, who were lost souls like myself? While I am praising Thee, can sin dwell in me? What strength can it still possess? Tuka says, Thou didst make stones float in the sea; I am as heavy as they, O God!
Are those few whom you saved in ancient days, who were lost souls like myself? While I am praising Thee, can sin dwell in me? What strength can it still possess? Tuka says, Thou didst make stones float in the sea; I am as heavy as they, O God!