Divine Mother, let every slap of correction administered by Thee wring from us, Thy children, only cries for Thy love. Change any moans of suffering we utter into unceasing wails to be lifted comfortingly onto Thy cosmic lap.

O Divine Mother, teach us, even when we are bludgeoned by pain, to sing only Thy exulting songs of joy. Melt our pride in Thy purifying furnace of all necessary trials, to transmute the lead of unseemly arrogance into the pure gold of humility.

Divine Mother, clear out the brooding slum of our selfishness wherein crouch, huddled in pain, the starving, ill‐clad urchins of our ignorance. Build there, instead, Thy temple of omnipresence, wherein noble votaries of devotion, solemn reverence, and aspiring love can worship Thee with pure hearts, dressed in the simple, clean garments of single‐minded intention.

In that golden temple, softly echoing Thy whispered inner guidance, Thy devotees will offer before Thy altar the frankincense of unceasing remembrance, as they sing to Thee their soul‐chants.

O Divine Mother, we lay eagerly at Thy feet all the fresh‐cut flowers of our devotion. Our humble prayer to Thee is this: Convert the little altar of our united hearts into the blazing light of Thy omnipresence.

Divine Mother, be Thou the only love of our souls. Ignite our damp wood of earthliness with the flame of infinity. Let the torch of our own devotion blaze in the dark forest of our indifference, restlessness, and ignorance.

Inflame our minds with Thy thoughts! our hearts with Thy love! our souls with Thy eternal joy!


213. The Rocket of My Love