Listen, O saintly ones, to my stammering, childish words. I speak with the liberty of a child before you; let no one be angry. Hear the means and the path; learn what leads upward and what leads to ruin. Sit firm and attentive and hold these truths in your heart. Dharma belongs to the one who has mastered the senses. Karma bears fruit for the one who has no fear or shame. Know that true merit lies in helping others, while true sin is in harming others and slandering them. Profit belongs to the one who utters God's name; the one chasing worldly pursuits suffers great loss. True happiness is the company of saints; true sorrow is where that company is absent. Spiritual practice succeeds for the one whose intellect is self-governed; the dependent one faces ruin in all dealings. True honor belongs to the one who controls the senses; the sensual one earns only disgrace. The wise one is the one who knows contentment; the ignorant one argues for the sake of ornament. The truly good one is the one who abandons what is harmful; the truly wicked one hoards ill-gotten wealth and enters others' homes. The righteous one cooks and gives a portion to the guest; the unrighteous one eats without witness or company. Self-benefit belongs to the one who sees God in all beings; ruin comes to the one who carries the ego. Blessed are those births that produced servants of Hari; cursed are those who remain tangled in sense pleasures and waste their lives. The truly discerning one knows the marks of perfection; the fool is dazzled by surface adornments. The truly brave one carries firm devotion in the body; the coward is the one who holds no single-pointed faith. The deep one swallows the Guru's word and sits still with it; the shallow one has no patience and wonders how it will all work out. The generous one places body and soul at God's feet; the miser is the one who falls into the pit of worldly strife. True goodness is inner purity; the impure one is double-tongued inside. The only sweet thing is Vitthal's Name; bitter is this world of eighty-four hundred thousand births. Says Tuka, O mind, go home to the company of saints. Nothing more needs to be done; simply remain at Vitthal's feet.