INTRODUCTION THE POET Kabir, a selection from whose songs is here for the first time offered to English readers, is one of the most interesting personalities in the history of Indian mysticism. Born in or near Benares, of Mohammedan parents, and probably about the year 1440, he became in early life a disciple of the celebrated Hindu ascetic Ramananda. Ramananda had brought to Northern India the religious revival which Ramanuja, the great twelfth- century reformer of Brahmanism, had initiated in the South. This revival was in part a reaction against the increasing formalism of the orthodox cult, in part an assertion of the demands of the heart as against the intense intellectualism of the Vedanta philosophy, the exaggerated monism which that philosophy proclaimed. It took in Ramanuja's preaching the form of an ardent personal devotion to the God Vishnu, as representing the personal aspect of the Divine Nature: that mystical 'religion of love' which every- where makes its appearance at a certain level of spiritual culture, and which creeds and philosophies are powerless to kill. The images are all lifeless, they cannot speak: I know, for I have cried aloud to them. The Purana and the Koran are mere words: lifting up the curtain, I have seen.'
IN THE NIGHT of weariness let me give myself up to sleep without struggle, resting my trust upon thee. Let me not force my flagging spirit into a poor preparation for thy worship. It is thou who drawest the veil of night upon the tired eyes of the day to renew its sight in a fresher gladness of awakening.
'TRAVELLER, WHERE do you go?' I go to bathe in the sea in the redd'ning dawn, along the tree-bordered path.' 'Traveller, where is that sea?' 'There where this river ends its course, where the dawn opens into morning, where the day droops to the dusk.' 'Traveller, how many are they who come with you?' I know not how to count them. They are travelling all night with their lamps lit, they are singing all day through land and water.' 'Traveller, how far is the sea?' 'How far is it we all ask? The rolling roar of its water swells to the sky when we hush our talk. It ever seems near yet far.' 'Traveller, the sun is waxing strong.' 'Yes, our journey is long and grievous. Sing who are weary in spirit, sing who are timid of heart.' 'Traveller, what if the night overtakes you?' 'We shall lie down to sleep till the new morning dawns with its songs, and the call of the sea floats in the air.'
