Where in this world can I find a match for your grace? I long to lay down, destitute, all my life's treasures at your feet.
Night's dark form dissolves, with its eternal shadow of tainted sorrow; the lamp of my soul grows bright, all darkness lifts and flees. Where in this world can I find a match for your grace?
The sun of blue immortality comes to prostrate at your feet, streams of moonlight bow down in golden hundred-petalled bloom.
Forgetting the fear of mortal death, I seek shelter at the shore of your feet; if I find a place in your lap, Mother, that alone is peace, where in this world can I find a match for your grace?
Mother, your soul's intimate touch draws me in melody after melody, my empty life grows full and comes into light through your gift.
Like an eternal flame, I burn on without cease; in the dawn of two pure eyes I wake and wipe away dust's shadow, where in this world can I find a match for your grace?