Bless my Soul, oh Lord

by Mildred Prendergast

The Master is like the mountain stream, crystal clear, and when the, soul is in meditation, the mind is gradually purified of imperfections and begins to reflect the Beloved One.

The array of created delusions cling to the soul, weighing it down. It is utterly helpless and alone except for the one True Friend leading it step by step through the labyrinthine ways by His saving hands nearer and nearer to the portals of liberation. At last through introspection the knowledge is gleaned that the life of the little self is worthless except it be laid down to lose itself in serving and knowing only the Master in His True effulgent Glory.

Gradually in the hours of meditation and obedient practice of His commandment strength to the toddling wayfarer is given daily by the Satguru to rise above the body, mind and senses and begin the ascent to higher realms by the pure gift of His Grace alone.

The poor helpless little soul stands at long last recovered in part and clothed with fragments of the sun of the Master’s Light, shimmering in a state of ecstasy. All thoughts of being swept back to the former state is a frightening aspect and it prays only to hold firmly the golden thread of liberation from imprisonment, extended to it by His Mercy and kindness. Rightly the Master says that Love renders it mute, totally unable to separate itself in the joy of communion with Him to re-enter the world of outer words.

Like the psalmist of old sings within:

Bless the Lord. Oh my soul and never forget what He has done for thee.