PRONE upon the earth, in prayer, the weary Nánác fell, Filled with all blessed thoughts of God; Turned toward the sacred Mecca were his dusty feet, And rested on the soft green sod. When, lo! there passed a saintly Moslem priest that way, And cried, "Base unbeliever, dost thou dare to pray, Thy graceless feet extended toward God's city fair?" But Nánác thus made answer, "Is not every-where God's city? Find, if thou canst, the accursed spot Where, crowned with deathless praise, His holy house is not!" |