Tukaram, Poem 3657

A censorious man is really a benefactor; how can I truly praise his worth? He is something like a washerman—a man of excellent qualities. He washes you gratis, without charging anything, keeps your surface free from defilement. He purifies those who seek to attain, so that they are eminent in the three worlds. His tongue is soap indeed; he cleanses you from the guilt that was born with you. His own destination is the city of Yama; he will dwell in the lowest hell. But I lay myself at his feet, says Tuka; he is a place of purification.