All treasures come from the Perfect Divine Guru. || 1 || Pause || Chanting the Name of the Lord, Har, Har, the man lives. The faithless cynic dies in shame and misery. || 1 || The Name of the Lord has become my Protector. The wretched, faithless cynic makes only useless efforts. || 2 || Spreading slander, many have been ruined. Their necks, heads and feet are tied by deaths noose. || 3 || Says Nanak, the humble devotees chant the Naam, the Name of the Lord. The Messenger of Death does not even approach them. || 4 || 13 || 18 |

SANGRAND HUKAMNAMA