Through the night of errors, we pursued the will-o’-the-wisp of false happiness. Gloom heaped upon gloom, and our feet on the path of progress slipped into many ruts and marshes of disillusionment. These deceiving fog-born fires of passions lure many people to their doom. Thousands drown in the marshes of sense satiety.
O Divine Hand, blow out this false torch-light of destruction which misleads Thy blood-relations, headed for Thy home. Burn Thy beacon of holy light instead, that Thine eager children-pilgrims may safely reach Thy home.