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अंक १२ वा. डिसेंबर १८९९, Gigantic Sceptics were spell-bound For those who strayed the path he found; Travelle'd over a foreign land, Bewitched them as with a magic wand; Taught Adwaita in terms as clear, As th'icy waters the Himalaya's bear; Laid stress on unity as goal; Comforted India's troubled soul. Do And now on the religion's platform meet East and West each other to greet." The voice came in terms express. Brought hope to despair and joy to distress; And in its mad career it swept The world through poles from right to left; But as it ran its joyful course To India it had recourse. It sang in gentle tunes and airs The glory that the name still bears; That tuneful music roused the dead, Awoke the slumberer from his bed, The young reformer the obstinate old All welcomed as the voice rolled. Peace, peace to all' it said; Fight not, strive not, quarrels end, Bear, forbear, but help and give. Each the other, the whole is one, Words without an act are vain, As thundering clouds without the rain. Thy-mother India still wants reform, The true one but no verbal storm. One which builds but destroys not With an empty curse what she has got. Let India's happy womb be blest With such more sons as work in the West,
