Master Yinguang, the thirteenth patriarch of the Pure Land school, passed away at Lingyan Mountain in the winter of the Gengchen year. The whole world mourned him. From then on, the Pure Land school lost its support and refuge. How scant are the favorable conditions for sentient beings in this Dharma-ending age! The Master’s hidden practices were beyond fathoming. In former days, while residing on Mount Putuo, he performed his daily evening practice without fail. Each night, thousands of mountain mice would crowd together outside his window, quietly listening to the Buddha’s name; only when the practice was over would they depart. Xu Weiru’s brother-in-law told me this, and thus one may know something of the transformative power of the Master’s hidden virtues. I regret my lack of literary ability and am unable to praise even a fraction of them. I should make the vow to spread Pure Land practice widely; this essay, too, is but an attempt to assuage my grief.

How admirable was Master Yinguang, a patriarch of his age. Zhongnan rises from the earth, its lofty peaks standing majestic and strong.

It gave birth to this sage, in whom spiritual excellence was concentrated. Thoroughly versed in both Confucianism and Buddhism, he was like a divine dragon.

Clouds arose in Shaanxi, and Dharma rain traveled eastward. Over sixty years, he awakened the deaf and enlightened the ignorant.

Grieving for this latter age, he hoped to reverse its declining ways. He personally embodied the Dharma, venerating the virtue of the precepts.

While in Shanghai, we all looked up to the Dharma platform. Seeking the benefit of the Dharma, I was fortunate enough to behold him.

We traveled by boat together to Ningbo and spoke joyfully with one another. He encouraged me toward diligent practice and opened for me the contemplation of Chan.

Only then did I understand his earnest intention: it was not to cling to a single sūtra. In order to open expedient means, he established this exemplary model.

The single phrase “Amitābha Buddha” he made the inscription of his heart. How could he have delighted in lesser teachings or drawn divisive distinctions?

The Master’s hidden practices were unknown to the world. His virtue transformed even birds and beasts; such marvels are beyond conception.

Untiring in instructing others, he bestowed the greatest gift. His towering merit and virtue were no less than those of Master Lianchi.

Alas, humans and devas have lost this field of merit. Who now will be our support and refuge? My heart remains bound in longing.

Lingyan stands before my gaze, at the summit of its precipitous heights. Clouds of compassion abide eternally throughout the three-thousand great-thousand world.

Respectfully inscribed by Wang Xianglu of western Zhejiang, at the New Year of the Xinsi year of the Republic of China.