Time is endless in Your hands, O God. There is none to count Your minutes.
Days and nights pass, and ages bloom and face like flowers. You know how to wait.
Your centuries follow one another in perfecting a small wildflower.
We have no time to lose, and having no time, we must scramble for our chances. We are too poor to be late.
Thus it is that time goes by, while I give it to every querulous person who claims it, and Your altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
At the end of the day, I hasten in fear lest the gate be shut, but I find that there is yet time.
- 'The Heart of God' - Prayers of Rabindranath Tagore,
Selected and edited by Herbert F. Vetter