1Arjuna.     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?

2Krishna.     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!          . . . . . . . . . . . . . .          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.