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Beyond achievers of vast deeds! Be thou
Yogi Arjuna! And of such believe,
Truest and best is he who worships Me
With inmost soul, stayed on My Mystery!
HERE ENDETH CHAPTER VI. OF THE BHAGAVAD-GITA, Entitled “Atmasanyamayog,”
Or “The Book of Religion by Self-Restraint.”
Krishna.
Learn now, dear Prince! how, if thy soul be set Ever on Me—still exercising Yog,
Still making Me thy Refuge—thou shalt come Most surely unto perfect hold of Me.
I will declare to thee that utmost lore, Whole and particular, which, when thou knowest, Leaveth no more to know here in this world.
Of many thousand mortals, one, perchance, Striveth for Truth; and of those few that strive—
Nay, and rise high—one only—here and there—
Knoweth Me, as I am, the very Truth.
Earth, water, flame, air, ether, life, and mind, And individuality—those eight
Make up the showing of Me, Manifest.
These be my lower Nature; learn the higher, Whereby, thou Valiant One! this Universe Is, by its principle of life, produced;
Whereby the worlds of visible things are born As from a Yoni. Know! I am that womb:
I make and I unmake this Universe:
Than me there is no other Master, Prince!
No other Maker! All these hang on me
As hangs a row of pearls upon its string.
I am the fresh taste of the water; I
The silver of the moon, the gold o’ the sun, The word of worship in the Veds, the thrill That passeth in the ether, and the strength Of man’s shed seed. I am the good sweet smell Of the moistened earth, I am the fire’s red light, The vital air moving in all which moves, The holiness of hallowed souls, the root Undying, whence hath sprung whatever is; The wisdom of the wise, the intellect
Of the informed, the greatness of the great.
The splendour of the splendid. Kunti’s Son!
These am I, free from passion and desire; Yet am I right desire in all who yearn,
Chief of the Bharatas! for all those moods, Soothfast, or passionate, or ignorant,
Which Nature frames, deduce from me; but all Are merged in me—not I in them! The world—
Deceived by those three qualities of being—
Wotteth not Me Who am outside them all,
Above them all, Eternal! Hard it is
To pierce that veil divine of various shows Which hideth Me; yet they who worship Me Pierce it and pass beyond.
I am not known
To evil-doers, nor to foolish ones,
Nor to the base and churlish; nor to those Whose mind is cheated by the show of things, Nor those that take the way of Asuras.[FN#12]
Four sorts of mortals know me: he who weeps, Arjuna! and the man who yearns to know;
And he who toils to help; and he who sits Certain of me, enlightened.
Of these four,
O Prince of India! highest, nearest, best That last is, the devout soul, wise, intent Upon “The One.” Dear, above all, am I
To him; and he is dearest unto me!
All four are good, and seek me; but mine own, The true of heart, the faithful—stayed on me, Taking me as their utmost blessedness,
They are not “mine,“but I—even I myself!
At end of many births to Me they come!
Yet hard the wise Mahatma is to find,
That man who sayeth, “All is Vasudev!”[FN#13]
There be those, too, whose knowledge, turned aside By this desire or that, gives them to serve Some lower gods, with various rites, constrained By that which mouldeth them. Unto all such—
Worship what shrine they will, what shapes, in faith—
‘Tis I who give them faith! I am content!
The heart thus asking favour from its God, Darkened but ardent, hath the end it craves, The lesser blessing—but ‘tis I who give!
Yet soon is withered what small fruit they reap: Those men of little minds, who worship so, Go where they worship, passing with their gods.
But Mine come unto me! Blind are the eyes Which deem th’ Unmanifested manifest,
Not comprehending Me in my true Self!
Imperishable, viewless, undeclared,
Hidden behind my magic veil of shows,
I am not seen by all; I am not known—
Unborn and changeless—to the idle world.
But I, Arjuna! know all things which were, And all which are, and all which are to be, Albeit not one among them knoweth Me!
By passion for the “pairs of opposites,”
By those twain snares of Like and Dislike, Prince!
All creatures live bewildered, save some few Who, quit of sins, holy in act, informed, Freed from the “opposites,“and fixed in faith, Cleave unto Me.
Who cleave, who seek in Me
Refuge from birth[FN#14] and death, those have the Truth!
Those know Me BRAHMA; know Me Soul of Souls, The ADHYATMAN; know KARMA, my work;
Know I am ADHIBHUTA, Lord of Life,
And ADHIDAIVA, Lord of all the Gods,
And ADHIYAJNA, Lord of Sacrifice;
Worship Me well, with hearts of love and faith, And find and hold me in the hour of death.
HERE ENDETH CHAPTER VII. OF THE BHAGAVAD-GITA, Entitled “Vijnanayog,”
Or “The Book of Religion by Discernment.”
Arjuna.
Who is that BRAHMA? What that Soul of Souls, The ADHYATMAN? What, Thou Best of All!
Thy work, the KARMA? Tell me what it is
Thou namest ADHIBHUTA? What again
Means ADHIDAIVA? Yea, and how it comes
Thou canst be ADHIYAJNA in thy flesh?
Slayer of Madhu! Further, make me know
How good men find thee in the hour of death?
Krishna.
I BRAHMA am! the One Eternal GOD,
And ADHYATMAN is My Being’s name,
The Soul of Souls! What goeth forth from Me, Causing all life to live, is KARMA called: And, Manifested in divided forms,
I am the ADHIBHUTA, Lord of Lives;
And ADHIDAIVA, Lord of all the Gods,
Because I am PURUSHA, who begets.
And ADHIYAJNA, Lord of Sacrifice,
I—speaking with thee in this body here—
Am, thou embodied one! (for all the shrines Flame unto Me!) And, at the hour of death, He that hath meditated Me alone,
In putting off his flesh, comes forth to Me, Enters into My Being—doubt thou not!
But, if he meditated otherwise
At hour of death, in putting off the flesh, He goes to what he looked for, Kunti’s Son!
Because the Soul is fashioned to its like.
Have Me, then, in thy heart always! and fight!
Thou too, when heart and mind are fixed on Me, Shalt surely come to Me! All come who cleave With never-wavering will of firmest faith, Owning none other Gods: all come to Me,
The Uttermost, Purusha, Holiest!
Whoso hath known Me, Lord of sage and singer, Ancient of days; of all the Three Worlds Stay, Boundless,—but unto every atom Bringer
Of that which quickens it: whoso, I say, Hath known My form, which passeth mortal knowing; Seen my effulgence—which no eye hath seen—
Than the sun’s burning gold more brightly glowing, Dispersing darkness,—unto him hath been Right life! And, in the hour when life is ending, With mind set fast and trustful piety, Drawing still breath beneath calm brows unbending, In happy peace that faithful one doth die,—
In glad peace passeth to Purusha’s heaven.
The place which they who read the Vedas name AKSHARAM, “Ultimate;” whereto have striven Saints and ascetics—their road is the same.
That way—the highest way—goes he who shuts The gates of all his senses, locks desire Safe in his heart, centres the vital airs Upon his parting thought, steadfastly set; And, murmuring OM, the sacred syllable—
Emblem of BRAHM—dies, meditating Me.
For who, none other Gods regarding, looks Ever to Me, easily am I gained
By such a Yogi; and, attaining Me,
They fall not—those Mahatmas—back to birth, To life, which is the place of pain, which ends, But take the way of utmost blessedness.
The worlds, Arjuna!—even Brahma’s world—
Roll back again from Death to Life’s unrest; But they, O Kunti’s Son! that reach to Me, Taste birth no more. If ye know Brahma’s Day Which is a thousand Yugas; if ye know
The thousand Yugas making Brahma’s Night, Then know ye Day and Night as He doth know!
When that vast Dawn doth break, th’ Invisible Is brought anew into the Visible;
When that deep Night doth darken, all which is Fades back again to Him Who sent it forth; Yea! this vast company of living things—
Again and yet again produced—expires
At Brahma’s Nightfall; and, at Brahma’s Dawn, Riseth, without its will, to life new-born.
But—higher, deeper, innermost—abides
Another Life, not like the life of sense, Escaping sight, unchanging. This endures When all created things have passed away: This is that Life named the Unmanifest,
The Infinite! the All! the Uttermost.
Thither arriving none return. That Life
Is Mine, and I am there! And, Prince! by faith Which wanders not, there is a way to come Thither. I, the PURUSHA, I Who spread
The Universe around me—in Whom dwell
All living Things—may so be reached and seen!
… … … … . . [FN#14]
Richer than holy fruit on Vedas growing, Greater than gifts, better than prayer or fast, Such wisdom is! The Yogi, this way knowing, Comes to the Utmost Perfect Peace at last.
HERE ENDETH CHAPTER VIII. OF THE BHAGAVAD-GITA, Entitled “Aksharaparabrahmayog,”
Or “The book of Religion by Devotion to the One Supreme God.”
Krishna.
Now will I open unto thee—whose heart
Rejects not—that last lore, deepest-concealed, That farthest secret of My Heavens and Earths, Which but to know shall set thee free from ills,—
A royal lore! a Kingly mystery!
Yea! for the soul such light as purgeth it From every sin; a light of holiness
With inmost splendour shining; plain to see; Easy to walk by, inexhaustible!
They that receive not this, failing in faith To grasp the greater wisdom, reach not Me, Destroyer of thy foes! They sink anew
Into the realm of Flesh, where all things change!
By Me the whole vast Universe of things
Is spread abroad;—by Me, the Unmanifest!
In Me are all existences contained;
Not I in them!
Yet they are not contained,
Those visible things! Receive and strive to embrace The mystery majestical! My Being—
Creating all, sustaining all—still dwells Outside of all!
See! as the shoreless airs
Move in the measureless space, but are not space, [And space were space without the moving airs]; So all things are in Me, but are not I.
At closing of each Kalpa, Indian Prince!
All things which be back to My Being come: At the beginning of each Kalpa, all
Issue new-born from Me.
By Energy
And help of Prakriti my outer Self,
Again, and yet again, I make go forth
The realms of visible things—without their will—
All of them—by the power of Prakriti.
Yet these great makings, Prince! involve Me not Enchain Me not! I sit apart from them,
Other, and Higher, and Free; nowise attached!
Thus doth the stuff of worlds, moulded by Me, Bring forth all that which is, moving or still, Living or lifeless! Thus the worlds go on!
The minds untaught mistake Me, veiled in form;—
Naught see they of My secret Presence, nought Of My hid Nature, ruling all which lives.
Vain hopes pursuing, vain deeds doing; fed On vainest knowledge, senselessly they seek An evil way, the way of brutes and fiends.
But My Mahatmas, those of noble soul
Who tread the path celestial, worship Me With hearts unwandering,—knowing Me the Source, Th’ Eternal Source, of Life. Unendingly
They glorify Me; seek Me; keep their vows Of reverence and love, with changeless faith Adoring Me. Yea, and those too adore,
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