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Take my voice and let me sing |
Ever only for my King. |
Take my lips and let them be |
Filled with messages from Thee. |
Take my silver and my gold, |
Not a mite would I withhold, |
Take my intellect and use |
Every power as Thou shalt choose. |
Take my will and make it Thine; |
| It shall be no longer mine. |
| Take my heart, it is Thine own, |
It shall be Thy royal throne. |
Take my love, My lord, I pour |
At thy feet its treasure store. |
Take myself, and I will be |
Ever, only, all for Thee." |
And as the final song, "Walk with the King", was played, a feeling of joy filled the air, and words resounded over the hill:
"I walk with the King, Meher Baba; |
I walk with the King, praise His Name; |
No longer I roam, my soul faces Home, |
I walk and talk with the King." |
The gathering dispersed, each one refreshed by the remembrance of Elizabeth's life of surrender to her Beloved. As Mehera said, while walking away towards the Beloved's Samadhi, "Elizabeth's name will be remembered always, because of her great, great love for Baba."
For Elizabeth
Go carefully — go slow
Into the new climate
Music frozen, so
Icewhite yet loving
All around you, the movement of invisible wings . . .
No
This isn't Antarctica
It is (only) the coolness of eternal summer . . .
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