In this poem Kabir urges the seeker to give up rites, rituals, false beliefs and external observances, and take to the practice of Naam. Describing the state of those who waste their human birth in such vain pursuits, Kabir says that they continue to rotate in the wheel of eighty-four, facing death again and again. On the other hand, those who take to the practice of Naam under the direction of a perfect Master, in whom the Formless has taken form, are dyed in the indelible hue of divine love and themselves become the Lord.

All remain deluded in false practices;
Only a rare devotee, O Lord,
Repeats Thy Name.

If men were to seek the herb,
Pulverize and ingest it,
They would be freed of their ailment;
But without the Master
They wander deluded,
Involved in vain observances.

Only a rare devotee, O Lord,
Repeats Thy Name.

He, the Almighty One,
Is ever present;
But without faith and love
How can you invoke his grace?
Look upon sorrow and joy as one
And firmly hold your mind still.
Turn the ten and the one towards the Lord
And remain ever absorbed in Him.
But he who remains involved in the twelve,
Whirls in the vortex of eighty-four;
Again and again he dwells in the womb,
Again and again he is doomed to die.

Only a rare devotee, O Lord,
Repeats Thy Name.

He who discards 'me', 'mine' and 'thine',
Who gives up rites and rituals,
Who rises above caste distinctions,
Who tries to attain the Formless
Through the one with form,
Such a one will never sink;
He will swim across the ocean
To the shore of divine bliss.

But only a rare devotee,
O Lord, repeats Thy Name.

He who is absorbed in the Lord,
Who is dyed in the Lord's own hue,
Whose coming and going has ended,
Who is freed from misery,
Who remains always content,
Who is unaffected by joy and sorrow,
Who looks on pleasure and pain as the same,
Such a one, O Kabir,
Becomes the Lord himself.

But only a rare devotee,
O Lord, repeats Thy Name.

K.G., p. 112:183
Sab bhoole ho pākhand rahe