I.

The Mistress dwells in midmost of Thyself;

within the Mistress centred dwellest Thou;
Midst of Thy servant if Ye Both do dwell, 

to me Thy servant ever give the grace
Amidst Thy lowliest servants to abide;

our Primal Lord, Whose Being knows no end, 
Who dwellest in the sacred golden porch, 

still present to fulfil my heart's intent! 
(4)

II. I have not swerved 

E'erwhile in presence here Thou mad'st me Thine;

and I even so to be with effort strain: 
I follow Thee, and Thy behests fulfil; 

but still I here behind am left, great Lord! 
If Thou appear not now in grace, and bid

me come, will not Thy servants doubting say, 
'And who was he that stood erewhile with Thee,'

Who joyest in the golden hall to dance? (8)

III.

'He joy'd erewhile in loving service done,'-

if I, with heart of feeling reft made hard
By grief, complain, for all the world to know,- 

will they not say, 'This is no fitting thing?'
Thy faithful ones, the sacrifice performed, 

now dwell in bliss with Thee, and Thou with them.
If Thou Thy face to me turn not, I die,- 

life's SOurce, Who dwellest in the golden court! (12)

IV. 

Thou Source of All! Guide to the senses five;

and to the Three; to me, too, in life's way! 
Thine ancient servants' thronging multitude

is gathered now within the heavenly courts.
Fount of all brightness! Thou hast given them grace; 

shall I not cry, 'To me show pity too?'
And so I weep,- what other can I do?- 

Thou King of Tillai's sacred court of gold! (16)

V. 

'King, Dancer in the golden court, 

Ambrosia,' - looking for Thy grace,- I cry.
Like patient heron watching for its prey, 

by night and day, I drooping 'bide and mourn
Thy saints have reached the shore,- in joy they shine; 

to me if Thou deny that vision bright,-
Like butter hidden in the curdled milk,;(br>

still silent, will not they reproach? (20)

VI. 

Even they will heap reproach upon my name,

revile, and scoffing point me out as Thine; 
While others all will utter various speech; 

but I will cherish yearnings for Thy grace. 
Teacher!- that I amid Thy loving ones 

may render service in the sacred hall,- 
Faher!- Who dances in the golden court,- 

henceforth, O ruler, pity show to me! (24)

VII. 

'Show pity, Dancer in the golden court,' 

with ever-yearning soul I pray. Of old, 
Rare teaching didst Thou give, and mad'st me Thine! 

Shall I become mere beast, with none to own?
Thy saints around Thee throng, where Thou and they, 

in happy sport commingled, ever dwell.
That I may thither rise to join the band, 

our only Bliss, in grace O bid me come! (28)

VIII. Whom have I save Thee?

Grace if Thou show not to Thy servant, who

is here to bid me cast away my fears?
All gold, Thou entering here, mad'st me Thine own,

as thing of worth; Dancer in court of gold!
Me, from Thee severed, with bewildered mind, 

and troubled sore, ah! bid to come to Thee.
If Thou show not Thy glorious fellowhip,

I die; and then will not men scoff? (32)

IX. The joys of Civan's paradise.

They smile, they joy, honied delights they quaff, 

in thronging crowds Thy words expound and hear, 
And loud extol. Then each apart repeats

the saving mystery of Thy sacred Name.
'Our Head, Who dancest in the golden court,'

they cry. before these blessed ones, shall I
Like dog, that jackals chase and scare, remain?

My Teacher, even now bestow Thy grace! 

X. Let not my trust be vain! 

'He will not cease to pour on us His gifts,'-

thus have I raving named Thy Name,
My eyes with tears were fill'd,- my praising mouth

falter'd,- I bow'd, - in thought with melting soul
Many a time Thine image I recalled,- 

and uttering praises named the golden court.
My Master, grant Thy grace to me, and oh! 

have pity on the soul that pines for Thee! (36)