Give Me Strength, O Jagannath
I don't ask for an easy road, Jagannath,
only the strength to walk it straight —
that my faith in You may never bend,
never break beneath the weight.
Let me choose the harder right
over the easier wrong,
and if I ever start to drift,
Lord of the Universe, pull me back before too long.
Lift the fog of my unknowing,
let Your wisdom find its way in.
Keep me far from every darkness
that could lead me into sin.
Whatever life You choose to give me,
let it be a good one, clean and true —
I ask for no one's ruin,
no grudge I'm holding onto.
I stop asking what I've gathered,
what is mine to keep, to hold —
let me ask instead what I have given,
what my open hands let go.
Let joy be something I hand out freely,
till the world feels less like a fight,
and every life I've ever touched
remembers I brought a little light.
Wash me in Your mercy, Madhava,
let it reach the hidden, unclean parts —
the corners I don't speak of,
the quiet wounds inside my heart.
I see the cruelty. I feel it too.
Everyone I know is a little afraid.
The weight of what's wrong keeps piling on
how is this old earth still not swayed?
Take some of that weight from me,
the way a mother lifts a child, half-asleep —
don't let this be how my story ends,
don't let this be a fall too steep, Govinda.
I'm standing in the dark, Hari —
not lost to the world, but to myself,
caught in angers I didn't choose,
fighting battles no one else can help.
If judgment comes, I'll take it standing.
If the price is steep, I'll pay it whole.
Just don't let yesterday's sorrow
come again to claim tomorrow.
Give me strength enough, O Lord of Puri —
not to escape the storm, but to stand in it still,
walking straight, and walking honest,
bending only to Your will,
O Jagannath, Krishna, keeper of my soul.
-Jairam Kshirasagar
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