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Krishna. Hear now, dear Prince! how, gathering heart and mind To Me — making Me thy refuge — thou shalt find Full knowledge; yea, the whole of what there is to know. I will declare to thee that utmost lore, Joined with experience, hearing which, no more Is left to learn in all this world below.

Of many thousands mortals, one, perchance, Strives for perfection; and of those who 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 My lower nature. Learn My higher nature also, by which This Universe is sustained — the life of lives — The ever-living Seed of beings. Know, I am the birth of everything that stirs, And I the end of all; on Me all things Are strung, as rows of pearls upon a thread.

I am the taste in water, Kunti's Son! I am the light in moon and sun, the word Of worship in the Vedas, the sweet sound In ether, and the strength of man in men. I am the good sweet smell of moistened earth, I am the fire's red light, the vital air Moving in all that moves, the holiness Of hallowed souls, the root undying, whence Hath sprung whatever is.

The might of mighty ones am I, and love Devoid of longing and of lust am I; And righteous in the righteous, Prince! am I. Yet all those moods — though all their offspring springs From Me — are not in Me, but I in them. The world — deceived by those three qualities Of Nature — wotteth not that I am here Above them all, imperishable, supreme!

Hard to pierce through is this My divine Maya, This veil of qualities: yet whoso turns To Me alone — casting aside the mask — Crosses it, and is free. But evil-doers, The foolish ones, the lowest of mankind, Strip not the veil, being beguiled by Maya, And sheltering in the nature of the fiends.

Four sorts of mortals know Me: he who weeps, The man who yearns to know, he who toils on, And he who hath discerned. Of these, the last — The man of wisdom, ever one in heart With Me — is best beloved. Dear, indeed, Am I to him, and he is dear to Me. Noble are all these four; but he who knows Is as Mine own self; for, fixed in faith on Me, He seeks the utmost goal, the soul's sure rest.

At the close of many births, The man of wisdom findeth refuge here, Saying, "Vaasudeva is all!" — 'tis hard To find so great a soul as this. Those others, Stripped by desires of this or that, betake Themselves to other gods, observing rites Conformed to what their nature asks; and I, Who dwell in every heart, lend faith to them Which shapes their worship to whichever god They choose.

Yet, whatsoever shrine or shape of god He loveth and reveres, I make his faith Firm and unflinching; so that faith sustained, He supplicates that form, obtains his wish — The boon I grant — and deems 'twas given by that! But the reward of such, being finite, fades. Who worship gods go to their gods; who vow Their souls to Pitris go to Pitris; those Who worship Me come unto Me alone.

The unenlightened, ignorant of My nature — Which is the supreme, the imperishable, The unmanifested — think Me manifest, Cloaked in a human form. Behind My veil Of Maya, the world sees Me not; yet all Is known to Me of what hath been, what is, And what shall be, Arjuna! — and none knows Me. By passion for the "pairs of opposites," By those twain snares of Like and Dislike, Prince! All creatures dwell in ignorance; save some few Who, freed from this delusion, fixed in faith, Finding in Me their refuge, learn of Me The Truth, the Whole — and come to know My being.