Be rich in the true sense, exchanging hearts (One)

I cannot expect an exchange of hearts. For, if I sit here with that heart of vast expanse—if indeed I am of that race of noble and great soul, how can I get a heart of the same order from a small , petty man! I can't. If I count on that, I'll point to the limitation of my knowledge. I'll expect that he'll refashion his own heart after this vast heart of mine.
I'll accept that mean, naked heart of his as vast. In that case he'll hug it to his own bosom and say to himself—"Oh, what a heart have I seen! O Lord, can't I make myself like that?" The give-and-take will take place on this basis of exchange.
But when money comes in, it rivets one's attention.—I've offered five rupees bowing at the feet of the great and noble one. That money again. That money comes up right in your front—it's a wall facing you. If you can't pierce that wall, you fail to have sight of the great one. That sight is directed towards the money. That's how 'the vast' disappears.
Now let me take up another aspect of the matter. When you bow down offering money, you've in your pocket, may be one or two or five or ten or a hundred rupees, there are, suppose, a number of people living up behind you. Many of them perhaps couldn't buy a little barley for their children or rice for their families. He came here running but backed out when he looked on that money.—'There! I haven't got any money. How can I enter the temple; how can I make my bow?' This comes to turning him away. But if there is no question of money, everybody sees at a glance without any dispute that all the people go in, takes flower-offering from the mother and bow down. The doors are then thrown wide open to everybody. What do you say to that?
All are alike—both great and small. Everybody is one of mother's children. Mother makes use of whatever finger or hand she needs while doing her work. If you truly happen to recognize her, know her, care to come here, do come. Further, if I know, you're a moneyed man—see that too, I'll show you the way how I can strip you of that money.
When you grasp a spade, you never use these two fingers, but when you put pencil to paper, you can't simply do without these two fingers. You've to hold the pencil between these fingers. So when this was required, a man, who has no rice for his cooking pot, would surely not pop in. He thinks—Oh, so-and-so has heard mother sing, he has bought here a tape-recording machine. He hasn't a word to say for himself.
But everybody is paying his mite—it comes to one rupee or five, two rupees or ten. Then? I haven't anything to offer. How can I go in? At the same time, the Guru also has his eyes fashioned on the disciple.—How fine! That disciple has given that; this one this.