I say to Waris Shah today, speak from your grave And add a new page to your book of love
Once one daughter of Punjab wept, and you wrote your long saga; Today thousands weep, calling to you Waris Shah:
Arise, o friend of the afflicted; arise and see the state of Punjab, Corpses strewn on fields, and the Chenaab flowing with much blood.
Someone filled the five rivers with poison, And this same water now irrigates our soil.
Where was lost the flute, where the songs of love sounded? And all Ranjha's brothers forgotten to play the flute.

I am mad with love
And no one understands my plight.
Only the wounded
Understand the agonies of the wounded,
When the fire rages in the heart.
Only the jeweller knows the value of the jewel,
Not the one who lets it go.
In pain I wander from door to door,
But could not find a doctor.
Says Mira: Harken, my Master,
Mira's pain will subside
When Shyam comes as the doctor.

Whatever the elders at home may say
I can never leave my treasure, my Shyam,
His beauty and charm have eaten my heart.
I constantly fear that someone will come
And cut my ribs open to take them away.
Forever I am conscious, awake day and night,
Even when in lassitude I close my eyes.
I am buried in Shyam, the shape of my loves.

Who could ever wish me to leave my loving,
I would rather eat poison than hear such words.
I have explored his beauty and found no shores,
But the god at last is standing by me.

I am athirst, but not for wine;
The drink I long for is divine,
Poured only from your eyes in mine.

I hunger, but the bread I want,
Of which my blood and brain are scant,
Is your sweet speech, for which I pant.

I am a-cold, and lagging lame,
Life creeps along my languid frame;
Your love would fan it into flame.

Heaven's in that little word--your love!
It makes my heart coo like a dove,
My tears fall as I think thereof.

I am all ashake, I may die
my heart's wish has seen no fulfillment
that lovely, pleasing, my heart throb
he hasn't come, ah Dear!

The love of Christ to the church, in his language to her,
and provisions for her.

SS 7:5-13.

Now in the galleries of his grace
Appears the King, and thus he says,
"How fair my saints are in my sight!
My love how pleasant for delight!"

Kind is thy language, sovereign Lord,
There's heav'nly grace in every word;
From that dear mouth a stream divine
Flows sweeter than the choicest wine.

Such wondrous love awakes the lip
Of saints that were almost asleep,
To speak the praises of thy name,

Christ the King at his table.

SS 1:2-5,12,13,17.

Let him embrace my soul, and prove
Mine interest in his heav'nly love;
The voice that tells me, "Thou art mine,"
Exceeds the blessings of the vine.

On thee th' anointing Spirit came,
And spreads the savor of thy name;
That oil of gladness and of grace
Draws virgin souls to meet thy face.

Jesus, allure me by thy charms,
My soul shall fly into thine arms!
Our wand'ring feet thy favors bring
To the fair chambers of the King.

[Wonder and pleasure tune our voice

The universal law of equity.

Matt. 8:12

Blessed Redeemer, how divine,
How righteous is this rule of thine!
"To do to all men just the same
As we expect or wish from them."

This golden lesson, short and plain,
Gives not the mind nor mem'ry pain;
And every conscience must approve
This universal law of love.

How blest would every nation be,
Thus ruled by love and equity!
All would be friends without a foe,
And form a paradise below.

Jesus, forgive us, that we keep
Thy sacred law of love asleep;

A hopeful youth falling short of heaven.

Mark 10:21.

Must all the charms of nature, then,
So hopeless to salvation prove?
Can hell demand, can heav'n condemn,
The man whom Jesus deigns to love?

The man who sought the ways of truth,
Paid friends and neighbors all their due;
A modest, sober, lovely youth,
And thought he wanted nothing new.

But mark the change; thus spake the Lord-
"Come, part with earth for heav'n today:"
The youth, astonished at the word,
In silent sadness went his way.

Characters of the children of God. From several scriptures.

So new-born babes desire the breast,
To feed, and grow, and thrive;
So saints with joy the gospel taste,
And by the gospel live.

[With inward gust their heart approves
All that the word relates;
They love the men their Father loves,
And hate the works he hates.]

[Not all the flatt'ring baits on earth
Can make them slaves to lust;
They can't forget their heav'nly birth,
Nor grovel in the dust.

Not all the chains that tyrants use