(69) As is apparent in winter, when there is so hard cold or frost that the water becometh ice; though the sun shineth somewhat warm through all the cold frost, yet for all its beams, by which it shineth on them, water freezeth into snow and ice.

(5) Every single drop of that rain became as big as a bowl, and the water stood the height of a man over the whole of this earth; and the noxious creatures on the earth being all killed by the rain, went into the holes of the earth.

(99) Then the water becometh an anguishing sweat, which stands between death and life, and so the fire of the heat cannot kindle itself: For the unctuosity or fatness is captivated in the cold fire, and so the whole body remaineth a dark valley, which stands in an anguishing birth or geniture, and cannot comprehend or reach the life. For the life which stands in the light cannot elevate itself in the hard, bitter and astringent body; for it is captivated in the cold fire, but not quite dead.

(76) In the earth the heat of the sun kindleth the sweet quality of water, in all imaged or framed figures; and then through the heat the light cometh to be in the sweet water, and that enlighteneth the astringent or sour quality, and the bitter, so that they see in or by the light; and in that seeing the one riseth up into the other, and proveth the other, that is, in that seeing the one tasteth of the other's sharpness, from whence cometh the taste.

(12) If He desireth, He causeth it to rain, morning and evening ; And if He desireth, He withholdeth it, And all things are. in His hand.'"'

(13) As to the beginning of the poem, the two first lines refer entirely to the activity of the Golden Flower. The two next lines are concerned with the mutual interpenetration of sun and moon. The sixth month is the adhering (Li) fire. The white snow that lies, is the true darkness of polarity in the middle of the fire sign, that is about to turn into the receptive. The third watch is the abysmal (K'ari) water. The sun's disk is the one polar line in the sign for water, which is about to turn into the creative. In this is contained the way to take the sign for the abysmal and the way to reverse the sign for the adhering (ire Li). The following two lines have to do with the activity of the pole of the Great Wain, the rise and fall of the whole release of polarity. Water is the sign of the abysmal; the eye is the wind of softness (Sun). The light of the eyes illumines the house of the abysmal, and controls there the seed of the great Light. " In Heaven " means the house of the creative (ChHen).

(9) Hence come the seas and all the mountains, from him flow the rivers of every kind; hence come all herbs and the juice through which the inner Self subsists with the elements.

(1) Master Lii Tzu said: Yu Ch'ing has left behind him a magic spell for the Far Journey: Four words crystallize the spirit in the place of power. In the sixth month the white snow is suddenly seen to ly.

(94) Hence the water of this world became so cold, dark and thick; and hence it is that all is become so hard and palpable, which was not so before the times of the angels.

(17) Sun and Moon - one* the day, the other the night, bow to the dust in adoration; and from their worship comes their movement. It is God who has spread out the day in whiteness, it is he who has folded up the night and blackened it.

(4) day and night subject to ceaseless wear and tear like a mere thing, unknowing what the end will be, and in spite of this mind-informed body conscious only that fate cannot save me from the inevitable grave-yard,—then I am consuming life until at death it is as though you and I had but once linked arms to be finally parted for ever! Is not that indeed a cause for sorrow? "Now you fix your attention upon something in me which, while you look, has already passed away. Yet you seek for it as though it must be still there,—like one who seeks for a horse in a market-place. What I admire in you is transitory. Nevertheless, why should you grieve? Although my old self is constantly passing away, there remains that which does not pass away." Confucius went to see Lao Tzŭ. The latter had just washed his head, and his hair was hanging down his back to dry. He looked like a lifeless body; so Confucius waited awhile, but at length approached and said, "Do my eyes deceive me, or is this really so? Your frame, Sir, seems like dry wood, as if it had been left without that which informs it with the life of man." "I was wandering," replied Lao Tzŭ, "in the unborn." "What does that mean?" asked Confucius.

(2) "Well, then," enquired Tzŭ Yu, "since the music of earth consists of nothing more than holes, and the music of man of pipes and flutes,—of what consists the music of Heaven?" "The effect of the wind upon these various apertures," replied Tzŭ Ch'i, "is not uniform. But what is it that gives to each the individuality, to all the potentiality, of sound? "Great knowledge embraces the whole: small knowledge, a part only. Great speech is universal: small speech is particular. "For whether when the mind is locked in sleep or whether when in waking hours the body is released, we are subject to daily mental perturbations,—indecision, want of penetration, concealment, fretting fear, and trembling terror. Now like a javelin the mind flies forth, the arbiter of right and wrong. Now like a solemn covenanter it remains firm, the guardian of rights secured. Then, as under autumn and winter's blight, comes gradual decay, a passing away, like the flow of water, never to return. Finally, the block when all is choked up like an old drain,—the failing mind which shall not see light again. "Joy and anger, sorrow and happiness, caution and remorse, come upon us by turns, with ever-changing mood. They come like music from hollowness, like mushrooms from damp. Daily and nightly they alternate within us, but we cannot tell whence they spring. Can we then hope in a moment to lay our finger upon their very Cause?

(43) As the air goeth forth from the power of the sun and stars, and moveth in this world, and causes that all creatures are generated, and that the grass, herbs and trees spring and grow, and causes all whatsoever is in this world to be:

(1) Tzŭ Ch'i of Nan-kuo sat leaning on a table. Looking up to heaven, he sighed and became absent, as though soul and body had parted. Yen Ch'êng Tzŭ Yu, who was standing by him, exclaimed, "What are you thinking about that your body should become thus like dry wood, your mind like dead ashes? Surely the man now leaning on the table is not he who was here just now." "My friend," replied Tzŭ Ch'i, "your question is apposite. To-day I have buried myself.... Do you understand?... Ah! perhaps you only know the music of Man, and not that of Earth. Or even if you have heard the music of Earth, you have not heard the music of Heaven." "Pray explain," said Tzŭ Yu. "The breath of the universe," continued Tzŭ Ch'i, "is called wind. At times, it is inactive. But when active, every aperture resounds to the blast. Have you never listened to its growing roar? "Caves and dells of hill and forest, hollows in huge trees of many a span in girth;—these are like nostrils, like mouths, like ears, like beam-sockets, like goblets, like mortars, like ditches, like bogs. And the wind goes rushing through them, sniffing, snoring, singing, soughing, puffing, purling, whistling, whirring, now shrilly treble, now deeply bass, now soft, now loud; until, with a lull, silence reigns supreme. Have you never witnessed among the trees such a disturbance as this?"

(27) For the water which resteth on the earth is as corrupt and perished and mortal or dead a being or thing as the earth is, and belongeth also to the outermost birth, which with its comprehensibility, or as to its palpability, stands in death, even as the earth and stones do.

As Jesus perfected the water of baptism, he poured death out. For this reason we go down into the water but not into death, that we may not be poured out into the spirit of the world. When it blows, winter comes. When the holy spirit blows, summer comes.

(1) It was the time of autumn floods. Every stream poured into the river, which swelled in its turbid course. The banks receded so far from one another that it was impossible to tell a cow from a horse. Then the Spirit of the River laughed for joy that all the beauty of the earth was gathered to himself. Down with the stream he journeyed east, until he reached the ocean. There, looking eastwards and seeing no limit to its waves, his countenance changed. And as he gazed over the expanse, he sighed and said to the Spirit of the Ocean, "A vulgar proverb says that he who has heard but part of the truth thinks no one equal to himself. And such a one am I. "When formerly I heard people detracting from the learning of Confucius or underrating the heroism of Poh I, I did not believe. But now that I have looked upon your inexhaustibility—alas for me had I not reached your abode, I should have been for ever a laughing-stock to those of comprehensive enlightenment!" To which the Spirit of the Ocean replied, "You cannot speak of ocean to a well-frog,—the creature of a narrower sphere. You cannot speak of ice to a summer insect,—the creature of a season. You cannot speak of Tao to a pedagogue: his scope is too restricted. But now that you have emerged from your narrow sphere and have seen the great ocean, you know your own insignificance, and I can speak to you of great principles.

(7) Behold, again, the seven subject Worlds; ordered by Aeon's order, and with their varied course full-filling Aeon! [See how] all things [are] full of light, and nowhere [is there] fire; for 'tis the love and the blending of the contraries and the dissimilars that doth give birth to light down shining by the energy of God, the Father of all good, the Leader of all order, and Ruler of the seven world-orderings! [Behold] the Moon, forerunner of them all, the instrument of nature, and the transmuter of its lower matter! [Look at] the Earth set in the midst of All, foundation of the Cosmos Beautiful, feeder and nurse of things on Earth! And contemplate the multitude of deathless lives, how great it is, and that of lives subject to death; and midway, between both, immortal [lives] and mortal, [see thou] the circling Moon.

(4) The Book of Successful Contemplation (Ying Kuan Ching) says: The sun sinks in the Great Water and magic pictures of trees in rows arise. The setting of the sun means that in Chaos (in the world before phenomena, that is, the intelligible world), a foundation is laid: that is the condition free of opposites {wu chi). Highest good is like water, pure and spotless. It is the ruler of the Great Polarity, the god who is revealed in the sign for that which greatly disturbs, Chin (19). Chen is also symbolized by wood, wherefore the image of trees in rows appears. A sevenfold row of trees means the light of the seven body-openings (or heart-openings). In the norlii-west is the direction of the creative. When it moves on one place farther, the abysmal is there. The sim which sinks into the Great Water is the image for the creative and abysmal. The abysmal is the direction of midnight (mouse, Tzu% north). At the winter solstice the thunder (Chin) is in the middle of the Earth quite hidden and covered up. Only when the sign Chin is reached, does the Light-pole come over the earth again. That is the picture representing the row of trees. The rest can be correspondingly inferred.

(2) He who thus knows the Vairâga, as interwoven in the seasons, shines (virâgati) through children, cattle, and glory of countenance. He reaches the full life, he lives long, becomes great with children and cattle, great by fame. His rule is, 'Never complain of the seasons.'