Whence, whence this soundless roar doth come When drowseth matter’s dreary drum?

On shores of bliss, Om, booming, breaks!
All earth, all heaven, all body shakes!

Cords binding one to flesh are severed all, Vibrations burst, meteors fall!
The hustling heart, the boasting breath No more shall cause the yogi’s death;

All Nature lies in darkness soft,
Dimness of starlight seen aloft; Subconscious dreams have gone to bed . . . ’Tis then that one doth hear Om’s tread; The bumble‐bee now hums along— Hark! Baby Om doth sing His song!
From Krishna’s flute the call is sweet:
’Tis time the Watery God to meet!
Now, the God of Fire is singing!
Om! Om! Om! His harp is ringing.
God of Prana now is sounding— Wondrous, breathing‐bells resounding! Oh! Upward climb the living tree;
Hark to the cosmic symphony.
From Om, the soundless roar! From Om The call for light o’er dark to roam.
From Om the music of the spheres!
From Om the mist of Nature’s tears!
All things of earth and heaven declare, Om! Om! Resounding everywhere!


God! God! God!