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| Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition by Paramhansa Yogananda |  | 25
Come to me, O Christ, as the Divine Shepherd of Souls. |
O Christ—Thou rarest flower of hearts—Thou didst sail on the storm-tossed lake of prejudiced minds. Its evil-scented, gloomy thought-waves lashed Thy lily-tender soul. They crucified Thee with their evil. Yet Thou didst shed the aroma of goodness and forgiveness, and didst help them to be purified by remorse, so helping them to become attractively sweet-scented with Thine all-loving Flower-Soul.
O Thou Great Lover of error-torn brothers—an unseen monument of the mightiest miracle of love was established in each heart when the magic wand of Thy voice uttered: "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Thou hast healed the cataract of hatred, and now we have grown to see: "Love thine enemies as thyself, for they are thy brothers—though sick and sleeping."
Thou hast taught us not to increase their delirious kicks of hatred by battering them with the bludgeons of revenge. Thine undying sympathy hath inspired us to heal and wake our brothers, suffering from the delirium of anger, by the soothing salve of our forgiveness.
Thy crucifixion reminds us of the daily crucifixion of our fortitude by trials, of our wisdom by ignorance, of our self-control by the scathing hands of temptation, and of our love by misunderstanding.
Thy test on the cross proved the victory of Thy wisdom over ignorance, of Thy soul over flesh, of Thy happiness over pain, and of Thy love over hatred. So are we heartened to bear our crosses bravely and pleasantly. Teach us to pour out sweetness when crucified by harshness, to bear with calmness the assault of worries, and to give understanding unceasingly to those who unjustly hate us.
O Shepherd of Souls, wandering hearts are of themselves seeking the one fold of divine devotion. We have heard the ever-calling music of Thine infinite kindness. Our one desire is to be at home with Thee, to receive the Cosmic Father with joyous, open eyes of wisdom, and to know that we are all sons of our own One God.
Teach us to conquer the Satan of dividing selfishness, which prevents the gathering of all brother-souls into the one fold of Spirit.
Calling to one another by the watchword: "Love him who loves you, and love all who love you not," let us rally beneath the canopy of the universal sense of Christ-Oneness. Amen.
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| by Paramhansa Yogananda |  | 2
We demand as Thy Children. |
Thou art our Father. We are made in Thine own image. We are sons of God. We neither ask nor pray like beggars, but demand as Thy children, wisdom, salvation, health, happiness, eternal joy. Naughty or good, we are Thy children. Help us to find Thy will in us. Teach us to use independently the human will (since Thou gavest that to us to use freely), in tune with Thy wisdom-guided will.
The sun shines high in the heavens: everything is fully awake. Awaken Thou me, likewise! Thou art invisible, yet Thine energy flows through the rays of sunshine. Fill my veins with Thine invisible rays, making me strong and tireless. As the sun shines in the busiest streets, may I behold Thy rays of protecting love in the crowded places of my life's activities. As the light shines steadily, undisturbed, on the street, whether crowded or empty, so may I hold my calmness and my strength steadily, while I move through the crowded or empty streets of life. Give me strength; and what I receive, teach me to share with others.
With closed eyes, I sit in the temple of night and worship Thee. The sunlight, revealing a million alluring things, has vanished. One by one, I have closed the doors of my senses, lest the fragrance of the rose, or the song of the nightingale, distract my love from Thee. I am alone in this dark, dark temple. I have left everything, but where art Thou? Darkness is haunting; but, unafraid, I am groping, seeking, crying for Thee. Wilt Thou leave me alone? Come, show Thyself!
The door of my memory swings open. Throbbingly thrilled, my heart looks for Thee, but I find Thee not. Halt! Ye throng of a million thoughts and experiences past! Come not into my sacred temple. I close the bursting, thought-pressed door and run everywhere to find Thee. Where art Thou?
Darkness deepens, and as I sit still, in anguish of despair, I behold a little taper of concentration burning within me. I stand up, and madly rush through the dimly lighted temple—the farther I go, the deeper grows the gloom. I clasp the empty darkness in hope of seizing Thee. Finding Thee not, I return again, and see the taper dimly burning.
I sing outwardly a loud prayer. My large teardrops, and my strong gusts of prayer almost extinguish the taper. I will pray no more with words nor rush or run about in the temple of Stygian darkness, nor drown the taper with my tears. I will sit still, and command my breath to make no sound. I rebuke my boisterous love for Thee. The taper of meditation burns brighter now.
O, how maddening! I cannot worship Thee with words, but only with wistful yearning. Brighter the light grows: I behold Thee now. Thou art I. I worship Thee.
As night hides everything, I will worship Thee in hidden silence.
I am glad with the joy of all minds. I will use the screen of the night to hide myself from the tempting things of the day.
O Night, when I am worried, throw thy veil of silent darkness around me. Create a dark temple for me wherever I go, that I may invoke and call Him, whom I love, at any time, anywhere, everywhere.
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| by Paramhansa Yogananda | | 162
Demand for Control of the Unruly Senses. |
O Spirit, let not my insatiable sense-cravings be fed with wrong actions. Teach me to discipline them, that they may want only my true happiness. If my senses become unruly, teach me to govern them with the rod of non-cooperation with their desires, and to feed them only with wholesome activity.
As electricity can either illumine or destroy a building, so human power can glorify or devastate a life. Let me, then, learn to govern wisely the finite forces Thou hast entrusted to me, so that each possession with two-fold potency may be used for good only.
Let the greedy flames of my many desires destroy even their own dross in the white heat of Thy wisdom.
Let me, O Spirit, co-operate with Thy will, harmoniously playing my little note, doing my little deed, singing my little song—until all of my unruly senses conform joyously to the harmony of Thy plan.
Let sense-craving be transmuted into soul-craving. And, O Spirit, let me feel the rod of Thy discipline if ever I stray senseward, from the path of Thy desire!
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Teach me not to be deceived by the Senses. |
O Divine Teacher, train me to recognize the difference between my soul's lasting happiness and the passing pleasures of the senses. Keep my eyes open, that the senses deceive me not by wearing stolen royal trappings and the mirage-cloak of sacred happiness, and so disguised, enter the mansion of my life.
Discipline my unwise, wayward senses, that they may spiritualize their pleasures, and ever look beyond the illusion of glittering, visible form: to find divine pleasure hidden behind simplicity's white robe.
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Bless me, that I may know that I am Dreaming, while I think that I am Awake. |
As we rest, and wake a little, to slumber again—so from beneath the cover of fleeting dreams of birth and death we rise for a while and fall asleep again, and dream another earthly dream of struggle.
On the sleigh of incarnations, we slide from dream to dream. Dreaming, on a chariot of astral fire, we roll from life to life. Dreaming, we pass through dreams, failures, victories. Dreaming, we sail over trying seas, eddies of laughter, whirlpools of indifference, waters of mighty events, deaths, births—dreams.
It was only in Thee that I awoke!
And then I knew that I had been dreaming, while I thought I was awake.
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