Thy gifts to us mortals fulfil all our needs and yet run back to Thee undiminished.
The river has its everyday work to do and hastens through fields and hamlets; yet its incessant stream winds towards the washing of Thy feet.
The flower sweetens the air with its perfume; yet its last service is to offer itself to Thee.
Thy worship does not impoverish the world.

— Tagore

From the words of the Poet, no doubt, men take whatever meaning pleases them; yet their last meanings point to Thee, O Lord!