Like dew on a morning meadow, my heart bleeds for you, Lord of Sukhavati;
Like the mist that rises at the touch of the sun,
My lips breathe Nianfo praise as you embrace me with your light;
Like the cry of the eagle, rising on the winds of the mountains,
Faith rises on the winds of your grace, that I cry Namo Amitabha!

Toward you, O Lord of Life, I fly!
In your light I take my refuge!
In your Land of Bliss I will make my home;
Where blind passions are no more like the night that is no more before the dawn;
And Enlightenment is mine by virtue of your Vow!

Take this fool, Lord of Life, and call forth the Tathagata;
Dispel conditioned things! Reveal the truth!
That Buddha to Buddha, I might praise your glory evermore!