Classic Poem

Bow down the head before the Guru: and cry O Lord blot out my sins and griefs.
Wretch that I am, I am still Thy slave: grant me a refuge at Thy feet.

Body and soul I have brought an offering to Thee: for my own purpose I kept nothing back.
According to Thy pleasure deal with me: fill this vessel as Thou wilt.

Set me in shade or scorching heat: sink in the deep or bear me up.
No virtue have I, nor strength nor wisdom: at every turn I have sought Thy protection.

I am the whorl Thou art the cord, where'er I turn, Thy strength sustains me.
Now I have set me in Thy boat—bear me across the river of desire.