A Sinner At The Door

 

I too await Thy pleasure

A sinner at Thy door!

Thou hast opened the Floodgates of Love and Light

On us unhappy mortals.

A single compassionate look from Thy God-intoxicated eyes

Has power to lift us out of the mortal coil

And free our soul from the Chains of mind and matter

That binds us to this Earth

To soar unhindered, out of all Time and space,

In all limitless regions of boundless Joy –

Where matter ends and Love reigns supreme.

In thy Holy presence we feel we’r one with God

And like Dr. Broadshe of Lousiville, Americal,

Our hearts speak out in Ecstasy,

“Buddha is here and is all Nirvana!”

With Thee God seems to be near at hand

And we feel His living presence.

Away from Thee All is dark,

We feel like lost Souls

Blundering through pathless shadows.

Blessed are the pure in heart

For their heart is Thy abode.

They are with Thee always and Thou with them,

For them there is no separation.

But still they pine of Thy physical presence,

For one look at heavenly face

That sheds divide radiance over all

- Saints and sinners alike.

Thy all –embracing grace transcends

And man-made barriers and distinctions

Of caste, creed, colour and race,

Reaching the innermost recesses of the Soul.

Cut away from our eternal source of everlasting life and joy we glower in dust

Hapless objects of thy pity

That has moved thy Divine Compassion

To take the mortal form of man

And Descend on this region of darkness and death.

Thou art the pole of God-light,

Outwardly a man amongst men Thou art something else besides-

And God –man come to free us from the bonds of flesh

And lead us back to God.

Thy message of hope and cheer resounds through the four corners of this earth

“There is hope for everybody.”

“What a man has done a man can do”.

“Of course with proper help and guidance”.

And in the words of Christ thou sayeth to all without reservation

“Knock and the door shall be opened unto you”.

I too stand at thy door

A hardened sinner beyond all hope of redemption

Spread out before me I see the passing Caravan of Fleeting images,

A long unending procession of shadowy objects fill my ye

And distracted by the changing scene

I forget to knock at thy door

 

-H.C Chadda