Page:An Indian Study of Love and Death.pdf/58

54 Soft wings of the divine Motherhood, Folding into their own depth and shadow all things that cannot bear the light, All little children crying out that they are lost, All error and defeat, all sin and sorrow, All loneliness and weakness, and all unprotectedness and simplicity of love; Thou the All-pitiful, folding us closer to one another beneath Thee,

To Thee our salutation. Thee we salute. Thee we salute. Thee we salute.