Hymn For St. John's Eve, 29th June
O sylvan prophet! whose eternal fame
Echoes from Judah's hills and Jordan's stream;
The music of our numbers raise,
And tune our voices to thy praise.
A messenger from high Olympus came
To bear the tidings of thy life and name,
And told thy sire each prodigy
That Heaven designed to work in thee.
Hearing the news, and doubting in surprise,
His falt'ring speech in fettered accent dies;
But Providence, with happy choice,
In thee restored thy father's voice.
In the recess of Nature's dark abode,
Though still enclosed, yet knewest thou thy God;
Whilst each glad parent told and blessed
The secrets of each other's breast.
poem by John Dryden
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A Dialogue Betwixt God And The Soul
Soul.
Whilst my Souls eye beheld no light
But what stream'd from thy gracious sight
To me the worlds greatest King,
Seem'd but some little vulgar thing.
God.
Whilst thou prov'dst pure; and that in thee
I could glass all my Deity;
How glad did I from Heaven depart,
To find a lodging in thy heart!
S. Now Fame and Greatness bear the sway,
('Tis they that hold my prisons Key):
For whom my soul would die, might she
Leave them her Immortalitie.
G. I, and some few pure Souls conspire,
And burn both in a mutual fire,
For whom I'd die once more, ere they
Should miss of Heavens eternal day.
S. But Lord! what if I turn again,
And with an adamantine chain,
Lock me to thee? What if I chase
The world away to give thee place?
G. Then though these souls in whom I joy
Are Seraphims, Thou but a toy,
A foolish toy, yet once more I
Would with thee live, and for thee die.
poem by Henry Wotton
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The Mediator
O Christ, true Son of God most high,
Thy name we praise for ever;
Whoe'er to Thee for help doth cry
Shall find Thee fail him never;
'Tis Thou wilt plead,
Thou intercede
With God, for us who need Thy prayers so sore:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
To Thee the Father giveth now
All power in earth and heaven;
Sin, Satan, Death to Thee must bow,
All fetters Thou hast riven,
Bade fear to cease,
And made our peace,
That now to God we dare our hearts outpour:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
Fulness of grace is in Thy Word;
The Life, the Truth, the Way
To life eternal art Thou, Lord;
To Thee alone we pray,
Who didst appear
A servant here
To bear the sin that crushed the world before:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
poem by Hans Sachs
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Introductory Verses
OH! blest art thou, whose steps may rove
Through the green paths of vale and grove,
Or, leaving all their charms below,
Climb the wild mountain's airy brow;
And gaze afar o'er cultured plains,
And cities with their stately fanes,
And forests, that beneath thee lie,
And ocean mingling with the sky.
For man can show thee nought so fair,
As Nature's varied marvels there;
And if thy pure and artless breast
Can feel their grandeur, thou art blest!
For thee the stream in beauty flows,
For thee the gale of summer blows,
And, in deep glen and wood-walk free,
Voices of joy still breathe for thee.
But happier far, if then thy soul
Can soar to Him who made the whole,
If to thine eye the simplest flower
Portray His bounty and His power.
If, in whate'er is bright or grand,
Thy mind can trace His viewless hand,
If Nature's music bid thee raise
Thy song of gratitude and praise;
If heaven and earth, with beauty fraught,
Lead to His throne thy raptured thought,
If there thou lov'st His love to read,
Then, wanderer, thou art blest indeed.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken
Jesus, I my cross have taken, all to leave and follow Thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition, all I’ve sought or hoped or known.
Yet how rich is my condition! God and heaven are still mine own.
Let the world despise and leave me, they have left my Savior, too.
Human hearts and looks deceive me; Thou art not, like them, untrue.
And while Thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me, show Thy face and all is bright.
Go, then, earthly fame and treasure! Come, disaster, scorn and pain!
In Thy service, pain is pleasure; with Thy favor, loss is gain.
I have called Thee, “Abba, Father”; I have set my heart on Thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, all must work for good to me.
Man may trouble and distress me, ’twill but drive me to Thy breast.
Life with trials hard may press me; heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me while Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me, were that joy unmixed with Thee.
Take, my soul, thy full salvation; rise o’er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station something still to do or bear:
Think what Spirit dwells within thee; what a Father’s smile is thine;
What a Savior died to win thee, child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?
Haste then on from grace to glory, armed by faith, and winged by prayer,
Heaven’s eternal day’s before thee, God’s own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission, swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope soon change to glad fruition, faith to sight, and prayer to praise.
poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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Thou Flower Of Summer
When in summer thou walkest
In the meads by the river,
And to thyself talkest,
Dost thou think of one ever--
A lost and a lorn one
That adores thee and loves thee?
And when happy morn's gone,
And nature's calm moves thee,
Leaving thee to thy sleep like an angel at rest,
Does the one who adores thee still live in thy breast?
Does nature eer give thee
Love's past happy vision,
And wrap thee and leave thee
In fancies elysian?
Thy beauty I clung to,
As leaves to the tree;
When thou fair and young too
Looked lightly on me,
Till love came upon thee like the sun to the west
And shed its perfuming and bloom on thy breast.
poem by John Clare
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Te Deum
Thee, Sovereign God, our grateful accents praise;
We own thee Lord, and bless thy wondrous ways;
To thee, Eternal Father, earth's whole frame
With loudest trumpets sounds immortal fame.
Lord God of Hosts! for thee the heavenly powers,
With sounding anthems, fill the vaulted towers.
Thy Cherubims thee Holy, Holy, Holy, cry;
Thrice Holy, all the Seraphims reply,
And thrice returning echoes endless songs supply.
Both heaven and earth thy majesty display;
They owe their beauty to thy glorious ray.
Thy praises fill the loud apostles' quire:
The train of prophets in the song conspire.
Legions of martyrs in the chorus shine,
And vocal blood with vocal music join.[24]
By these thy church, inspired by heavenly art,
Around the world maintains a second part,
And tunes her sweetest notes, O God, to thee,
The Father of unbounded majesty;
The Son, adored co-partner of thy seat,
And equal everlasting Paraclete.
Thou King of Glory, Christ, of the Most High,
Thou co-eternal filial Deity;
Thou who, to save the world's impending doom,
Vouchsafst to dwell within a virgin's womb;
Old tyrant Death disarmed, before thee flew
The bolts of heaven, and back the foldings drew,
To give access, and make thy faithful way;
From God's right hand thy filial beams display.
Thou art to judge the living and the dead;
Then spare those souls for whom thy veins have bled.
O take us up amongst thy bless'd above,
To share with them thy everlasting love.
Preserve, O Lord! thy people, and enhance
Thy blessing on thine own inheritance.
For ever raise their hearts, and rule their ways,
Each day we bless thee, and proclaim thy praise;
No age shall fail to celebrate thy name,
No hour neglect thy everlasting fame.
Preserve our souls, O Lord, this day from ill;
Have mercy on us, Lord, have mercy still:
As we have hoped, do thou reward our pain;
We've hoped in thee--let not our hope be vain.
poem by John Dryden
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Deliverance from a Fit of Fainting
Worthy art Thou, O Lord, of praise,
But ah! It's not in me.
My sinking heart I pray Thee raise
So shall I give it Thee.
My life as spider's webb's cut off,
Thus fainting have I said,
And living man no more shall see
But be in silence laid.
My feeble spirit Thou didst revive,
My doubting Thou didst chide,
And though as dead mad'st me alive,
I here a while might 'bide.
Why should I live but to Thy praise?
My life is hid with Thee.
O Lord, no longer be my days
Than I may fruitful be.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Perumaal 43-48
43 Brahmma where did yajna spouseless
Aloof Athivaradan where in tank-deep
Lizards Heman, Suklan whereat curse-relieved
Perundevi where with Thee favouring
To Thou abode that of Thirukkachi, Athigiri
That praises Thou answering to Ramanuja
Hey Athigiri Varada, vision, I surrender
44 Annoyed Saraswathi where obviated Brahma's yajna
Sent where Kaali with demons to disrupt
And Thee fought against where to win eight-armed
Where with PadmasiniThee gracing
To Thou abode that of Thiruattabuyakkaram
That speaks of Mahachanda rishi, Gajendran salvaged
Hey Gajendravarada, vision, I surrender
45 Annoyed Saraswathi where obviated Brahma's yajna
Sent fiery Mayanalan where to engulf, benight yajna fire
A lamp in palm where Thee then held him enlightening yajna
Maragathavalli where with Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thiruthanka
That sings Thee there born Vedanta Desikar
Hey Deepa Prakaasa, vision, I surrender
46 Thee whilst tearing apart Hiranya
Persona Thine another whilst chasing to kill other demons
An abode serene where found for Thyself Thee
Where with Velukkaivalli Thee blessing
To Thou abode that of Thiruvelukkai
That praise Thee Peiazhwar, Thirumangai
Hey Aal Ari, Azhagiya Singa, vision I surrender
47 Thee where as elemental aqua symbolizing
Like in deluge where a chit on Banyan leaf
Where for Akroorar appeared so blessing
Nilamangaivalli where with Thee favouring
To Thou abode that of Thiruneeragam
That accolades 'Thee Neeragathai'Thirumangai
Hey Jagathishvara, vision, I surrender
48 Janamejayan where did Asvameda yajna
Wished for erstwhile presence Thine challenging Duryodana
Blessed Thee Janamejayan where in Thou vishvarupa
Where with Rukmani, Sathyabhama Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of ThiruPaadakam
That places wide and high Thee in paasurams
Hey Paandava Thooda, vision I surrender
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Be Thou My Vision
Be thou my vision, oh lord of my heart
Nought be all else to me, save that thy art
Thou my best thought in the day and the night
Waking or sleeping, thou presence my light
Be thou my wisdom, be thou my true word
I ever with thee and thou with me lord
Thou my great father and I thy true son
Thou in me dwelling and I with thee one
Be thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight
Be thou my armour and be thou my might
Thou my soul shelter, and thy my high tower
Raise thou me heavenwards, oh power of my power
Riches I need not, nor mans empty praise
Thou mine inheritance through all of my days
Thou and thou only though first in my heart
High king of heaven my treasure thou art
Oh high king of heaven, when battle is done
Grant heavens joy to me, bright heaven sun
Christ of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, though ruler of all
Da, da, da, da, da, etc.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grasshopper
Happy insect, what can be
In happiness compared to thee?
Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy morning's gentle wine!
Nature waits upon thee still,
And thy verdant cup does fill;
'Tis filled wherever thou dost tread,
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing,
Happier than the happiest king!
All the fields which thou dost see,
All the plants belong to thee;
All the summer hours produce,
Fertile made with early juice.
Man for thee does sow and plow,
Farmer he, and landlord thou!
Thou dost innocently enjoy;
Nor does thy luxury destroy.
The shepherd gladly heareth thee,
More harmonious than he.
Thee country hinds with gladness hear,
Prophet of the ripened year!
Thee Phoebus loves, and does inspire
Phoebus is himself thy sire.
To thee, of all things upon earth,
Life is no longer than thy mirth.
Happy insect! happy thou,
Dost neither age nor winter know;
But when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung
Thy fill, the flowery leaves among,
(Voluptuous and wise withal,
Epicurean animal!)
Sated with thy summer feast,
Thou retir'st to endless rest.
poem by Abraham Cowley
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Perumaal 97-102
97 Guiding Brahma where indicated of a falling wheel
Austere rishis where chose to do chatra yajna
Thee where from the holy fire rose to bless
Sriharilakshmi where with Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Naimisaranyam
That Vyasa, Sukabrahma where scripted Bharatam, Bhagavatam
Hey Devaraja, vision, I surrender
98 In concealment Thine divine play
Amid the serene clouded hills
Thine sylvan where befriending lake Manasarover
Where with Parimalavalli Thee blessing
To Thou abode that of Thirupirithi
That his first pasuram where Thirumangai debuted
Hey Paramapurusha, vision, I surrender
99 Indran where at Ganga-bank keeping a watch
Thine deluge-abode where immortal Banyan awaiting
His adoration ever Thee wherefor Brahma penanced
Pundarikavalli where with Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of Thirukandam(Kadinagar)
That praises Thee in pasuram Perialvar
HeyNeelamega Perumaal, vision, I surrender
100 Self manifested where under Badri tree
Thine Salagrama(ammonite) -persona where decreed
'Om Namo Narayanaya'where as a salving preacher
Where with Aravindavalli Thee favouring
To Thou abode that of Thiruvadari ashram(Badrinath)
That Narada where by Ashtakshara was blessed
Hey Badrinarayana, vision, I surrender
101So much yearning, where river Kantaki penanced
Thence to bear blessed Salagrama divine enormous
Droning in the core each where Thee as Vajrakreetam
Sridevi where with Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thirusalagramam(Salagrava)
That Perialvar's Krishna, Thirumangai's Rama embodying Thee
Hey Srimoorthy, vision, I surrender
102Mighty Thee where at Mathura born as Krishna
Then to prank and play where at Brindavan
Heaved Govardana, Thine plight where sheltered Thine herd
Where with Satyabhama Thee blessing
To Thou abode that of Thiruvatamathurai(Mathura)
That splendid Yamuna ever where in awe of Thee
Hey Balakrishna, vision, I surrender
poem by Indira Renganathan
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To D
In thee I fondly hoped to clasp
A friend whom death alone could sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp,
Detach'd thee from my breast for ever.
True, she has forced thee from my breast,
Yet in my heart thou keep'st thy seat;
There, there thine image still must rest,
Until that heart shall cease to beat.
And when the grave restored her dead,
When life again to dust is given,
On thy dear breast I'll lay my head--
Without thee where would be my heaven?
February 1803
Our Father
As the little fellow walked by the side of my horse, I asked him if there was any church that the slaves attended on Sunday. He said no, there was none near enough, and he had never seen one. I asked him if he knew where people went to when they died, and was much affected with the simple, earnest look, with which he pointed to the sky, as he replied, 'To Fader, dere.' — Adam Hodgson.
That dearest name! ay, even thou, poor slave, may'st lift thine eye,
Nor dread a chilling glance of scorn will meet thee from the sky:
Go bend the knee, and raise the soul, and lift thy hopes above,
The God of heaven is even to thee, a Father in his love.
The earth-worm, man, may crush thee down to slavery and shame,
And in his puny pride usurp a master's haughty name;
But He, Lord God Omnipotent, disdaineth not to bear
A parent's cherish'd name to thee, to yield a parent's care.
And thou, with childlike confidence, may'st spring to his embrace,
Nor shrink in shame before the glance of that paternal face;
Thou art not yet an ingrate vile—thou hast not, in thy pride,
Return'd him falsehood for his love,—his holiest laws defied.
Thou never like a thief hast spoil'd the nurslings of his fold;
Thou ne'er hast given thy brother's form to be enslaved and sold;
No wrathful thunders seem, to thee, to clothe his vengeful arm,
Nor fearful lightnings in his eye, awake thy wild alarm.
Our Father! oh how deeply dear that holy name should be—
How should we love the meanest one, who thus may call on Thee!
And yet—thou Just and Righteous God! if thou wert not our sire,
Long since we had been swept away by thy consuming ire.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works
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And Thou Art One
And Thou art One--One with th' eternal hills,
And with the flaming stars, and with the moon,
Translucent, cold. The sentinel of noon
That clothes the sky in robes of light and fills
The earth with warmth, the flowering fields, the rills,
The waving trees, the south wind's elfin rune,
Are One with Thee. All nature is in tune
With Thee, O Father, God--and if one wills
To humbly walk the fragrant, leaf-strewn path
And kneel in reverence 'neath the vaulted sky,
Hearing the hymnals of the waving trees
And prayers of the soughing winds--what hath
He less of heaven in him than we, who cry,
"God in our creeds doth dwell and not in these?"
poem by Joseph Seamon Cotter
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Nearer my God to Thee
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee
E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth me,
Still all my song shall be,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.
Tho' like a wanderer,
The sun gone down,
Darkness be over me,
My rest a stone,
Yet in my dreams I'll be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.
There let the way appear,
Steps unto heaven;
All that Thou sendest me
In mercy be given,
Angels to beckon me
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.
Then with my waking thoughts
Bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs
Bethel I'll raise;
So by my woes to be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.
Or if, on joyful wing
Cleavihg the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot,
Upward I fly,
Still all my song shall be,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.
poem by Sarah Flower Adams
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Licia Sonnets 50
Ah Licia, sigh and say thou art my own;
Nay, be my own, as you full oft have said.
So shall your truth unto the world be known,
And I resolved where now I am afraid.
And if my tongue eternize can your praise,
Or silly speech increase your worthy fame,
If ought I can, to heaven your worth can raise,
The age to come shall wonder at the same.
In this respect your love, sweet love, I told,
My faith and truth I vowed should be forever.
You were the cause if that I was too bold;
Then pardon this my fault or love me never.
But if you frown I wish that none believe me,
For slain with sighs I'll die before I grieve thee.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Eternal Time, That Wastest Without Waste
Eternal Time, that wastest without waste,
That art and art not, diest, and livest still;
Most slow of all, and yet of greatest haste;
Both ill and good, and neither good nor ill:
How can I justly praise thee, or dispraise?
Dark are thy nights, but bright and clear thy days.
Both free and scarce, thou giv'st and tak'st again;
Thy womb that all doth breed, is tomb to all;
What so by thee hath life, by thee is slain;
From thee do all things rise, by thee they fall:
Constant, inconstant, moving, standing still;
Was, Is, Shall be, do thee both breed and kill.
I lose thee, while I seek to find thee out;
The farther off, the more I follow thee;
The faster hold, the greater cause of doubt;
Was, Is, I know; but Shall, I cannot see.
All things by thee are measur'd; thou, by none:
All are in thee; thou, in thyself alone.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Greek Girl’s Lament For Her Lover
IMRA! thy form is vanished
From the proud and patriot band;
Imra! thy voice is silent,
'Mongst the voices of the land.
And bravely hast thou fallen;
In joy didst thou depart;
Their chains shall never bind thee,
Young hero of my heart!
But with thee the dream is over
That bound my soul so long;
And the words of fame and glory
Have vanished from my song:
My heart which bounded proudly
Is as sad as sad can be;
I thought it beat for freedom,
But I feel it beat--for thee.
I thought the victory's triumph
Would have made my soul rejoice,
But that was when I listened
To the music of thy voice.
The dreams of fame and conquest,
Of my country being free;
What love were they to Zoë,
But most blessed dreams of thee?
It is past--thy voice may never
Speak of triumph, or of love;
And the bright hope that was burning
Hath flown with thee above.
This earth contains no dwelling,
No land of rest for me;
When Hellas was my country,
I dwelt in it with thee!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Perumaal 37-42
37 Where from Kanchi descended Thee
Thou abode where Thine shrine bell shaped
As VaradaRaja where Shiva visioned Thee
Thirumagal where with Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thirumanikoodam
That in pasurans praises Thee Thirumangai
Hey GajendraVarada, VaradaRaja, vision, I surrender
38 Blessed Swethan where Thee with immortality
'Annaa' to Thiruvenkatam where Thirumangai greets
Kumudavalli where consorted with Thirumangai
Where with Alarmelmangai Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of Thiruvellakulam
That stands causal for its pristine tank
Hey Annan Perumaal, vision, I surrender
39 Varuna relieved where of a curse
Blessed Thee Arjuna where for water
Thirumangai heightens where Thee as Thaamaraial Kelvan
ThaamaraiNayaki where with Thee blessing
To Thou abode that of ThiruPaarthanpalli
That holds in from warfield Thine Paarthasarathy
Hey LakshmiRanga, vision I surrender
40 Where on Brahma's plea Thee judged
Siva-Paarvathi dance at Thine Chitrakootam
Boarded where then Thee at Thillaivanam
Where with PundareekavalliThee favouring
To Thou abode that of Chidambaram
That demon-daughters chilli, Thilli where keep vigil
Hey GovindaRaja, vision, I surrender
41 Indran where Thee blessed with vajrayudha
Adisesha seismic where for Thee dredged up water
Garuda where for Thee brought in river Vaikunta-Viraja
Bhargavi where with Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thiruvahindrapuram
That at Aushadagiri bears Thine Hayagreeva
Hey DeivaNayaka, vision, I surrender
42 Yugas earlier where Thine Gopal dwelt
Vaamana, Thrivikrama where Thee blessed Mahabali
Vaamana, Thrivikrama where Thee blessed Mrikandu Muni
Where with PushpavalliThee blessing
To Thou abode that of Thirukkovaloor
That extole Thine Vaamana, Thrivikrama, Mudal Alwars
Hey Thrivikrama, vision, I surrender
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Perumaal 25-30
25 Amid the surging ocean with sacred conch
Rescued Thee where Chandra from curse
Thence Thine crown where adorned the crescent
Where with Amrithavalli Thee favouring
To Thou abode that of ThalaichangaNaanmadhiyam(Thalaichangaadu)
That accolades Thou dazzling charisma Thirumangai
Hey Naanmadhiya Perumaal, vision, I surrender
26 Thee where granted Chandran his naming-wish
Thence Thou abode Indaloor after chandran known
Thirumangai where debated for Thou vision
ParimalaRanganayaki where with Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of ThiruIndaloor
That scents outspread with Thou fragrance
Hey ParimalaRanga, vision, I surrender
ThiruNangoor 27-37
Eleven abodes of Perumaal situated in and around ThiruNangoor
Ashed Dhakshayani, dancing Shiva whereon outraged
Furious Shiva Thee where tranquilized
His fury Shiva to end where Thee blessed
In and around Thou abode ThiruNangoor
Thine shrines eleven whereat Thee domiciled
To Thou eleven those of ThiruNangoor
Hey Perumaal, vision, I surrender
27 Conquering Indra whereafter Thee reposed
Parijata to SathyaBhama Thee where granted
Where from Dwaraka Thee with Rukmini endured
Madavaralmangai where with Thee bestowed Shiva
To Thou abode that of Thirukaavalmpaadi
That praises Thee Thirumangai in verses
Hey Gopalakrishna, Rajagopala, vision I surrender
28 Rebuked Brahma's pride Thee where blessed Romasa
The rishi then Thrivikrama where visioned
Versified Thirumangai where Sambandar's heart won
Where with Lokanayaki Thee blessed Shiva
To Thou abode that of KazhisriRamavinnagaram(Sirkazhi)
That sings Rama nearer in Thine chamber
Hey Thrivikrama, Thaadaala, vision, I surrender
29 Rishi Uthanga prayed where to Gopal
As GovardhanaHari where Thee blessed
Thirumangai on Kudamaadukoothan where sang
Amrithakadavalli where with Thee bestowed Shiva
To Thou abode that of Arimeyavinnagaram
That praise Hari Mangai's pasurams
Hey Kudamaadukoothan, visin I surrender
30 Who than Rama be humane of humans
August from Ayodhya where descended
To rid Shiva of rage Thou Purushothaman
Where with Purushothamanayaki Thee graced Shiva
To Thou abode that of ThiruvanPurushothamam
That versifies in pasuram Thirumangai
Hey, Purushothama, vision, I surrender
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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