The saints are oceans of grace. They bestowed their merciful gift upon me. They accepted my faltering, lisping speech, and by that my jiva was steadied. With that happiness, my mind became firm in its place; the saints granted me a spot at their feet. I stammered "Name, Name" as my only utterance, and that became my salvation and everything. Says Tuka, I am brimming with bliss. Let us raise the constant chorus of the Name.