ੴ ਸਤਿਨਾਮੁ
Protect me with Your hand; fulfill the wishes of my heart.
May my mind dwell at Your feet; preserve me as Your own.
Vanquish all my enemies and with Your own hand save me.
May my family live in peace; bless all servants and Sikhs, O Creator.
Protect me with Your own hand and slay all foes today.
Fulfill my hopes; may my thirst for Your devotion always remain.
I worship none but You; whatever blessing I seek, I receive from You.
Liberate my servants and Sikhs; pick out and destroy my enemies.
With Your own hand uplift me, and remove my fear of death.
Always be on my side; O Sword-Bannered Lord, ever protect me.
Save me, O Saviour Lord — beloved Master, helper of the saints.
Friend of the meek, destroyer of the wicked — Lord of the fourteen worlds.
In time Brahma took form; in time Shiva descended.
In time Vishnu became manifest — all is the play of Time.
The Time who made Shiva a Yogi, and Brahma the master of the Vedas.
The Time who arrayed all worlds — to that Time I bow.
The Time who created the whole world, gods, demons, and yakshas.
From beginning to end, the One alone — know Him as my Guru.
I bow to that One who Himself fashioned all creation.
Granted virtues and joy to the devout; in an instant slew the foes.
He knows the inmost of every heart; recognises the pain of good and bad alike.
From the ant to the great elephant — His gracious glance blesses all.
When saints suffer, He suffers; when saints are at ease, He is at ease.
He recognises every single one's pain; He knows the secret of every heart.
When the Creator unfolds creation, beings take countless forms.
When You withdraw creation, all embodied beings merge back into You.
Every form in creation speaks of You according to its own understanding.
You remain detached from all; the Vedas and the wise know Your mystery.
Formless, blemishless, untouched; primal, unbounded, beginningless, self-existent.
Only fools claim to describe His mystery — even the Vedas cannot find it.
Some imagine Him a stone — great fools, knowing nothing of His mystery.
They call Mahadev the eternal Shiva, yet do not recognise the Formless One.
Each by their own understanding describes You differently.
Your expanse is beyond knowing — how You first arranged the world.
One incomparable form — somewhere a pauper, somewhere a king.
Created the egg-born, womb-born, sweat-born — and again the earth-born species.
Somewhere expanded as a king, somewhere withdrawn into Shiva.
He shows the wonder of all creation — self-existent from age to age.
Now protect me; uplift the Sikhs and destroy the unrighteous.
Whoever rises in tyranny — strike down all evildoers in battle.
Those who take Your refuge, O Sword-Bannered Lord — their enemies perish in agony.
Whoever falls at Your feet — You remove all their troubles.
Whoever meditates on the All-Powerful even once — death will not come near them.
He is protected at all times; foes and obstacles are removed at once.
Whoever receives Your gracious gaze — their suffering vanishes in a moment.
All wealth and powers come to their home; no enemy can even cast a shadow on them.
Whoever remembers You even once — You free them from the noose of death.
Those who utter Your Name remain free of poverty, foes, and faults.
O Sword-Bannered Lord, I take Your refuge — with Your own hand uplift me.
Be my helper in every place; save me from foes and faults.