The remarkable feature of this religion, best seen in the Tiruvacagam, is the personal tie which connects the soul with God.  In no literature with which I am acquainted has the individual religious life—­its struggles and dejection, its hopes and fears, its confidence and its triumph—­received a delineation more frank and more profound.  Despite the strangely exotic colouring of much in the picture, not only its outline but its details strikingly resemble the records of devout Christian lives in Europe.  Siva is addressed not only as Lord but as Father.  He loves and desires human souls.  “Hard though it is for Brahma and Vishnu to reach thee, yet thou did’st desire me.”  What the soul desires is deliverance from matter and life with Siva, and this he grants by bestowing grace (Arul).  “With mother love he came in grace and made me his”; “O thou who art to thy true servants true”; “To thee, O Father, may I attain, may I yet dwell with thee.”  Sometimes[535] the poet feels that his sins have shut him off from communion with God.  He lies “like a worm in the midst of ants, gnawed by the senses and troubled sore” ejaculating in utter misery “Thou hast forsaken me.”  But more often he seems on the point of expressing a thought commoner in Christianity than in Indian religion, namely that the troubles of this life are only a preparation for future beatitude.  The idea that matter and suffering are not altogether evil is found in the later Sankhya where Prakriti (which in some respects corresponds to Sakti) is represented as a generous female power working in the interests of the soul.

Among the many beauties of the Tiruvacagam is one which reminds us of the works of St. Francis and other Christian poetry, namely the love of nature and animals, especially birds and insects.  There are constant allusions to plants and flowers; the refrain of one poem calls on a dragon fly to sing the praises of God and another bids the bird known as Kuyil call him to come.  In another ode the poet says he looks for the grace of God like a patient heron watching night and day.

The first perusal of these poems impresses on the reader their resemblance to Christian literature.  They seem to be a tropical version of Hymns Ancient and Modern and to ascribe to the deity and his worshippers precisely those sentiments which missionaries tell us are wanting among pagans—­fatherly love, yearning devotion and the bliss of assured salvation.  It is not surprising if many have seen in this tone the result of Christian influence.  Yet I do not think that the hypothesis is probable.  For striking as is the likeness the contrast is often equally striking.  The deity described in words which almost literally render “Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear” is also the spouse of Uma with the white breasts and curled locks; he dances in the halls of Tillai; and the line “Bid thou in grace my fears begone” is followed by two others indicated by dots as being “not translateable."[536] Nor can we say that