
                                  CHAPTER IV
                         OF THE RELIGION OF KNOWLEDGE
                                       
   _Krishna._ 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.
   _Arjuna._ 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?"
   _Krishna._ 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,
   Foregoing 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!
   
   HERE ENDETH CHAPTER IV OF THE
   BHAGAVAD-GITA,
   Entitled "Jnana Yog,"
   Or "The Book of the Religion of Knowledge."
