Of equality and that happy land,
Where all artificial differences are resolved,
Where Hindhus, Buddhists, Muslims and Christians
Are brought together in loving unity,
I sing.
	What art thou? A Persian, Jain,
Or Jew? A Santal, Bhil, or Garo?
But whatever thou mayst be, even if thou
Wouldst carry in thy head or in the back
The rich load of all the scriptures of the world,
Or if thou wert versed in all the wisdom
Of the Quran, the Vedas, The Bible, The Zendavesta
And the Granta-Sahib, I would forewarn thee, friend,
That thy labours would be all in vain.

For is it not folly
To waste weary hours bargaining in a dingy store
While fresh flowers blossom by the road side
In splendid glory? Comrade, in thee
Lie the wisdom of all ages
And the knowledge of all books.

The truth rests in thy soul.
Thou art only to look for it,
And thou wilt see the prophets divine
And the quintessence of all religions
Holding their sway in thy bosom.
Thine heart is the shrine of all gods.
Why the dost thou wonder
In search of hermits and sages,
Or pour over the carcass of dead scriptures?
From His quiet seat in thy heart
he smiles serenely.
		My words, comrade, are not false.
Princes bow down before this temple, this heart,
Which is the sublimest shrine.
It is Beneres, Mathura, Vrindavana, Bodhgaya, Jerusalem,
It is Medina and the Ka'aba,
Whatever thou wouldst call.
It is the mosque, the temple, the church,
Where Jesus and Moses found the eternal truth.
From this field of war the young Krisna
Sang the great Geeta and in this meadow of the soul
The shepherd prophets of the old made God
A friend of their own.
Sitting in this cave of meditation
Saint Shakya heard the call of suffering mandkind
And gave up his throne.
in the depth of this shrine
The darling of Arabia heard the call,
And from here he sang th Quran's
Song of equality.
        My words, comrade, are not false.
There is no greater temple or house of god
Than this heart of man.