1Krishna.     This deathless Yoga, this deep union,     I taught Vivaswata, the Lord of Light;     Vivaswata to Manu gave it; he     To Ikshwaku; so passed it down the line     Of all my royal Rishis. Then, with years,     The truth grew dim and perished, noble Prince!     Now once again to thee it is declared--     This ancient lore, this mystery supreme--     Seeing I find thee votary and friend.

2Arjuna.     Thy birth, dear Lord, was in these later days,     And bright Vivaswata's preceded time!     How shall I comprehend this thing thou sayest,     "From the beginning it was I who taught?"

3Krishna.     Manifold the renewals of my birth     Have been, Arjuna! and of thy births, too!     But mine I know, and thine thou knowest not,     O Slayer of thy Foes! Albeit I be     Unborn, undying, indestructible,     The Lord of all things living; not the less--     By Maya, by my magic which I stamp     On floating Nature-forms, the primal vast--     I come, and go, and come. When Righteousness     Declines, O Bharata! when Wickedness     Is strong, I rise, from age to age, and take     Visible shape, and move a man with men,     Succouring the good, thrusting the evil back,     And setting Virtue on her seat again.     Who knows the truth touching my births on earth     And my divine work, when he quits the flesh     Puts on its load no more, falls no more down     To earthly birth: to Me he comes, dear Prince!     Many there be who come! from fear set free,     From anger, from desire; keeping their hearts     Fixed upon me--my Faithful--purified     By sacred flame of Knowledge. Such as these     Mix with my being. Whoso worship me,     Them I exalt; but all men everywhere     Shall fall into my path; albeit, those souls     Which seek reward for works, make sacrifice     Now, to the lower gods. I say to thee     Here have they their reward. But I am He     Made the Four Castes, and portioned them a place     After their qualities and gifts. Yea, I     Created, the Reposeful; I that live     Immortally, made all those mortal births:     For works soil not my essence, being works     Wrought uninvolved. Who knows me acting thus     Unchained by action, action binds not him;     And, so perceiving, all those saints of old     Worked, seeking for deliverance. Work thou     As, in the days gone by, thy fathers did.          Thou sayst, perplexed, It hath been asked before     By singers and by sages, "What is act,     And what inaction? "I will teach thee this,     And, knowing, thou shalt learn which work doth save     Needs must one rightly meditate those three--     Doing,--not doing,--and undoing. Here     Thorny and dark the path is! He who sees     How action may be rest, rest action--he     Is wisest 'mid his kind; he hath the truth!     He doeth well, acting or resting. Freed     In all his works from prickings of desire,     Burned clean in act by the white fire of truth,     The wise call that man wise; and such an one,     Renouncing fruit of deeds, always content.     Always self-satisfying, if he works,     Doth nothing that shall stain his separate soul,     Which--quit of fear and hope--subduing self--     Rejecting outward impulse--yielding up     To body's need nothing save body, dwells     Sinless amid all sin, with equal calm     Taking what may befall, by grief unmoved,     Unmoved by joy, unenvyingly; the same     In good and evil fortunes; nowise bound     By bond of deeds. Nay, but of such an one,     Whose crave is gone, whose soul is liberate,     Whose heart is set on truth--of such an one     What work he does is work of sacrifice,     Which passeth purely into ash and smoke     Consumed upon the altar! All's then God!     The sacrifice is Brahm, the ghee and grain     Are Brahm, the fire is Brahm, the flesh it eats     Is Brahm, and unto Brahm attaineth he     Who, in such office, meditates on Brahm.     Some votaries there be who serve the gods     With flesh and altar-smoke; but other some     Who, lighting subtler fires, make purer rite     With will of worship. Of the which be they     Who, in white flame of continence, consume     Joys of the sense, delights of eye and ear,     Forgoing tender speech and sound of song:     And they who, kindling fires with torch of Truth,     Burn on a hidden altar-stone the bliss     Of youth and love, renouncing happiness:     And they who lay for offering there their wealth,     Their penance, meditation, piety,     Their steadfast reading of the scrolls, their lore     Painfully gained with long austerities:     And they who, making silent sacrifice,     Draw in their breath to feed the flame of thought,     And breathe it forth to waft the heart on high,     Governing the ventage of each entering air     Lest one sigh pass which helpeth not the soul:     And they who, day by day denying needs,     Lay life itself upon the altar-flame,     Burning the body wan. Lo! all these keep     The rite of offering, as if they slew     Victims; and all thereby efface much sin.     Yea! and who feed on the immortal food     Left of such sacrifice, to Brahma pass,     To The Unending. But for him that makes     No sacrifice, he hath nor part nor lot     Even in the present world. How should he share     Another, O thou Glory of thy Line?          In sight of Brahma all these offerings     Are spread and are accepted! Comprehend     That all proceed by act; for knowing this,     Thou shalt be quit of doubt. The sacrifice     Which Knowledge pays is better than great gifts     Offered by wealth, since gifts' worth--O my Prince!     Lies in the mind which gives, the will that serves:     And these are gained by reverence, by strong search,     By humble heed of those who see the Truth     And teach it. Knowing Truth, thy heart no more     Will ache with error, for the Truth shall show     All things subdued to thee, as thou to Me.     Moreover, Son of Pandu! wert thou worst     Of all wrong-doers, this fair ship of Truth     Should bear thee safe and dry across the sea     Of thy transgressions. As the kindled flame     Feeds on the fuel till it sinks to ash,     So unto ash, Arjuna! unto nought     The flame of Knowledge wastes works' dross away!     There is no purifier like thereto     In all this world, and he who seeketh it     Shall find it--being grown perfect--in himself.     Believing, he receives it when the soul     Masters itself, and cleaves to Truth, and comes--     Possessing knowledge--to the higher peace,     The uttermost repose. But those untaught,     And those without full faith, and those who fear     Are shent; no peace is here or other where,     No hope, nor happiness for whoso doubts.     He that, being self-contained, hath vanquished doubt,     Disparting self from service, soul from works,     Enlightened and emancipate, my Prince!     Works fetter him no more! Cut then atwain     With sword of wisdom, Son of Bharata!     This doubt that binds thy heart-beats! cleave the bond     Born of thy ignorance! Be bold and wise!     Give thyself to the field with me! Arise!