In plain words
We must experience it. This is what was said in the Gītā, ‘Jñātuṃ, draṣṭuṃ, praveṣṭuṃ’: this is the right way. To see a thing, to experience what has been seen, to merge in what has been experienced. Only when these three happen is true divinity understood.
What we must love is God; what we must fear is sin
Rāga is the thought that there is something other than oneself, that one's heart's desire will be fulfilled only when one gains it, and how it is to be gained: in just this thinking we keep growing rāga. When rāga arises, fear too enters at once. How? Will I get what I desire or not; even if I get it, will I be able to keep it or not; have I the strength and the ability to keep it or not: such fears and anxieties begin at once. When this fear changes a little, anger enters. Rāga, fear and anger are inseparably bound together; each rests on the others. Rāga, fear and anger are like the plait that women wear. Three strands are joined one with another, and so they wear them. In the same way, rāga, fear and anger are joined one with another. When you separate these three, it is no plait at all. Only when the three come together is it called a ‘plait’. So too, in human nature these three are one. How are we to put this principle, now one, far from us? Here, fear brings us down. A Gopī called Nīrajā, gathering her companions about her,
Drive away the ghost called fear, conquer fear, my dears; the fear we must have is of sin, my dears; why should we fear the world, my dears? Afraid of everyone, unable to sing God's bhajan, deluded, at the time of dying, when Yama in his might drags you, saying ‘Come now, come’, who will come to stop him then, as you weep ‘Ayyo, ayyo’, my dears? Drive away the ghost called fear, and live without fear, my dears.