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In plain words

Little by little the steamer left Dakshineswar behind. The picture of the beautiful temple passed out of sight. The bluish water of the Ganges, churned by the paddle wheels, rose in waves, foamed and roared. But the roar no longer reached the devotees' ears. Spellbound, they were looking at a wonderful yogi, his face smiling, full of bliss, his eyes tinged with love, lovely to see. Spellbound, they were looking at a man of love and renunciation who had given up everything. He knew nothing but God. Meanwhile the Master's talk went on.