ਜੋ ਗੁਣ ਸੰਗ੍ਰਹੈ ਤਿਨ੍ਹ੍ਹ ਬਲਿਹਾਰੈ ਜਾਉ ॥
jo gun sangrahai tinH balihaarai jaa-o.
I am a sacrifice to those who gather merits.
ਦਰਿ ਸਾਚੈ ਸਾਚੇ ਗੁਣ ਗਾਉ ॥
dar saachai saachay gun gaa-o.
At the Gate of Truth, I sing the Glorious Praises of the True One.
ਆਪੇ ਦੇਵੈ ਸਹਜਿ ਸੁਭਾਇ ॥
aapay dayvai sahj subhaa-ay.
He Himself spontaneously bestows His gifts.
ਨਾਨਕ ਕੀਮਤਿ ਕਹਣੁ ਨ ਜਾਇ ॥੪॥੨॥੪੧॥
naanak keemat kahan na jaa-ay. ||4||2||41||
O Nanak, the value of the Lord cannot be described. ||4||2||41||
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa
I give myself to those who gather good qualities.
At the Gate of Truth, I sing the praises of the True One, who gives His gifts freely, on His own.
Says Nanak: the worth of the One is beyond all describing.
Every good quality you gather was, underneath, freely given.
The shabad ends bowing to the virtuous ("I am a sacrifice to those who gather merits") and crediting all to the One's spontaneous giving — "He Himself spontaneously bestows His gifts." Goodness gathered turns out to be goodness given, freely, before it was asked for. And the Giver's own worth exceeds all words.
A Question to Sit With
Who do you admire for their goodness — and what might you learn just by being near them?
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI
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