मन्मना भव मद्भक्तो मद्याजी मां नमस्कुरु।मामेवैष्यसि युक्त्वैवमात्मानं मत्परायणः॥
man-manā bhava mad-bhakto mad-yājī māṃ namaskurumām evaiṣyasi yuktvaivam ātmānaṃ mat-parāyaṇaḥ
Word by word
The verse says
Keep your mind on me. Be devoted to me. Worship me, bow to me. Joined in this way, having made me your highest aim, you will come to me.
In plain words
Four instructions, and they are one instruction said four times.
Mind, love, worship, the bow. Nothing new is introduced in the last line of the chapter.
He is not adding. He is finishing, and the repetition is the point.
Where you've felt this · in family life
At the end of a long visit your grandmother walks you to the gate and says the same four things she always says. Eat properly. Ring when you get there. Stop worrying so much. Come again soon. She has not run out of things to talk about. She has decided which four are worth the last thirty seconds.
Going deeper
Ending on repetition rather than on a new idea tells you what kind of chapter this was.
Nothing in this last verse has not already been said. Mind, devotion, worship, bowing — all four appeared earlier, and the closing line adds no condition, no qualification and no exception. After thirty-three verses of cosmology, cycles, hierarchy and argument, the instruction is small enough to be carried out of the room.
That shape is deliberate. The chapter called itself the king of secrets and the easiest thing to practise, and it ends by proving the second claim rather than the first.
What that leaves you with is unusually little to do. Not a system, not a sequence, nothing to qualify for. Put your attention somewhere and keep putting it there. Everything else in the chapter was an argument for why that is worth doing, and none of it is required in order to begin.