O Divine Hart, I ran after Thee equipped with the spears of selfish desire. Thou didst fly before me! I raced after Thee, shouting prayers loudly, but my voice drove Thee from me by the gusts of my restlessness; the noise I made only frightened Thee away! Stealthily, then, I crept up to Thee and cast the dart of my concentration. Alas! my hand unsteadily shook, and Thou didst bound away. As Thou didst so, however, Thy hooves echoed: “Without devotion thou art a poor, poor marksman!” With my devotion then, holding fast the dart of meditation, I crept forward. Thy divine hoofbeats came stealing back—but I heard Thee whisper: “I am beyond thy mental dart—far beyond!” At last despairing, I entered the cave of celestial love. And there, at last, lo! Thou, the Divine Hart, camest willingly into my heart.


124. Make Me the Drops of Sympathy in Tearful Eyes