Tukaram, Poem 3170

The experience of great saints shall enter my soul; my soul pants eagerly for this bliss. Now take Thou my soul as an oblation to Thyself; give me a place in the ranks of the saints. My speech is like a creeper that spreads itself out but bears no fruit; it is barren, and dry like chaff. Tuka says, I am come to the last extremity; do not leave me, O Narayana, in the rear of the other saints.