(3) The thought thus must be kept ever under watch; I must always be as if without carnal sense, like a thing of wood. The eyes must never glance around without object; their gaze should always be downward, as if in meditation. But sometimes, to rest his gaze, one may look around him; he sees [strangers] as mere phantoms, but will turn his eyes upon them to bid them welcome. On the road, and other such places, he will look from time to time to the four quarters of space, to take note of danger; he will rest and turn round to look about him. He will go forward or backward with heed, and in all conditions do what he has to do with understanding. In every act that he undertakes he will consider the due posture of his body, and from time to time will look to see how it is. He will watch with great heed the wild elephant of his thought, so that it remain bound to the stout stake of holy meditation and become not loosed. He will watch to see where his mind is moving, so that it may not even for an instant cast off the yoke of rapt devotion....

(1) HE who would keep the rules must diligently guard his thought; the rules cannot be kept by him who guards not the fickle thought. Untamed elephants in their madness do not such harm here as the thought works in Avichi and the rest of the hells, a young elephant ranging free. But if the young elephant of thought be entirely bound by the rope of remembrance, all peril departs, and perfect happiness comes. Tigers, lions, elephants, bears, snakes, all foes, all the warders of the hells, witches and devils — all of them are bound, if only thought be bound; all are subdued if only thought be subdued. The Speaker of the Truth has said that from thought alone come all our countless terrors and griefs. Who has diligently forged the swords of hell, or its pavement of red-hot iron, and whence were born its sirens? All this has sprung from the sinful thought, as the Saint's song tells; thus in the threefold world there is no foe to fear save the thought. If the Perfect Charity frees the world from poverty, how could the Saviours of old have had it, since the world is still poor? The Perfect Charity is declared to be the thought of surrendering to all beings our whole possessions and likewise the merit thereof; thus it is but a thought. Where can fishes and other creatures be brought into safety, that I may not slay them? When the thought to do them no hurt is conceived, that is deemed the Perfect Conduct. How many can I slay of the wicked, who are measureless as space? But when the thought of wrath is slain, all my foes are slain. Whence can be found leather enough to cover the whole earth? But with a single leather shoe the whole ground is covered. In like manner the forces without me I cannot control; but I will control the thought within me, and what need have I for control of the rest? Though aided by voice and body, indolence can never win for its prize an estate such as that of Brahma, which falls to the lot of the vigorous unaided thought. The prayers and mortifications of a heedless and feeble man, however long he labour, are all in vain, says the Omniscient. To overcome sorrow and win happiness men wander in vain, for they have not sanctified their thcfught, the mysterious essence of holiness. Then I must keep my thought well governed and well guarded; what need is there of any vows save the vow to guard the thought?...

(10) But when his strength fails, he will withdraw from his work; and if it be happily ended, he will leave it, in eagerness for more and more tasks. He will guard himself against the blows of the Passions, and deal stout blows against the Passions, as though fighting with the sword against a skilful foe. As one in fear swiftly takes up again a fallen sword, so he will take up the fallen sword of remembrance, bethinking himself of hell.

(11) As poison that has reached the blood spreads through the body, so the sin that finds a weak spot spreads through the spirit. A man carrying a bowl full of oil, surrounded by soldiers with drawn swords, in fear of death if he should trip, will walk needfully; and so it is with him that is under the vow. Then when slumber and faintness fall upon him, he will strive against them as speedily as one springs up when a serpent is creeping into his lap. Whenever he is caught unawares, he will be sorely grieved, and consider what he should do that it may not befall him again. For the sake of this he will desire godly company or tasks to come in his way, that his remembrance may be exercised in these conditions. Remembering the Sermon on Heedfulness, he will hold himself in readiness, so that even before a task comes to him he is prepared to turn to every course. As the seed of the cotton-tree is swayed at the coming and going of the wind, so will he be obedient to his resolution; and thus divine power is gained.

(1) WHEN thus vigour has been nurtured, it is well to fix the thought in concentred effort; the man of wandering mind lies between the fangs of the Passions. It cannot wander if body and thought be in solitude; so it is well to forsake the world and put away vain imaginations. Because of love, or hunger for gain, and the like, men will not forsake the world; then in order to cast it aside the wise will lay to heart these thoughts. Passion is overcome only by him who has won through stillness of spirit the perfect vision. Knowing this, I must first seek for stillness; it comes through the contentment that is regardless of the world. What creature of a day should cling to other frail beings, when he can never again through thousands of births behold his beloved? Yet when he sees him not, he is ill at ease; he rests not in concentred thought; and even when he beholds him he is not satisfied, but is distressed by the same longing as before. He sees not things in their reality; he loses his horror of the world; he is consumed by his grief in yearning for union with the beloved. In thoughts thereupon his brief life vainly passes away hour by hour; and the eternal Law is broken for the sake of a short-lived friend!

(2) The thief Heedlessness, waiting to escape the eye of remembrance, robs men of the righteousness they have gathered, and they come to an evil lot. The Passions, a band of robbers, seek a lodging, and when they have found it they rob us and destroy our good estate of life. Then let remembrance never withdraw from the portal of the spirit; and if it depart, let it be brought back by remembering the anguish of hell. Remembrance grows easily in happy obedient souls from the reverence raised by their teachers' lore and from dwelling with their masters. " The Enlightened and their Sons keep unfailing watch in every place. Everything is before them, I stand in their presence." Pondering this thought, a man will be possessed by modesty, obedience, and reverence, and the remembrance of the Enlightened will thus be always with him. When remembrance stands on guard at the portal of the spirit, watchfulness comes, and nevermore departs.

(7) "Those whose hearts are in a state of repose give forth a divine radiance, by the light of which they see themselves as they are. And only by cultivating such repose can man attain to the constant. "Those who are constant are sought after by men and assisted by God. Those who are sought after by men are the people of God; those who are assisted by God are his chosen children. "To study this is to study what cannot be learnt. To practise this is to practise what cannot be accomplished. To discuss this is to discuss what can never be proved. Let knowledge stop at the unknowable. That is perfection. And for those who do not follow this, God will destroy them! "With such defences for the body, ever prepared for the unexpected, deferential to the rights of others,—if then calamities overtake you, these are from God, not from man. Let them not disturb what you have already achieved. Let them not penetrate into the soul's abode. For there resides the Will. And if the will knows not what to will, it will not be able to will. "Whatsoever is not said in all sincerity, is wrongly said. And not to be able to rid oneself of this vice is only to sink deeper towards perdition. "Those who do evil in the open light of day,—men will punish them. Those who do evil in secret,—God will punish them. Who fears both man and God, he is fit to walk alone.

(2) It is well for thee to think fearfully of thyself here as of a living fish, much more so for the sinner to dread the fierce anguish of hell. Thou art burnt if warm water touch thee, tender creature that thou art; and when thou doest damnable sins, how canst thou sit thus comfortably? 0 wretched soul, that longest for reward unearned by striving, thou that art so tender and much afflicted, thou immortal, thou art devoured by Death, and undone! Thou hast found the ship of manhood; then sail in it across the broad river of sorrow. Fool, this is no time for slumber; it will be hard to find the ship again. How canst thou forsake the noble delight in the Law, which brings an endless course of comforts, and find pleasure in wantonness, mirth, and other like sources of sorrow?

(61) Just in this manner thou settest, and no other, when thou art in the Pleasures of the Flesh; if thou wilt not fight, thou canst not look for any Victory, but thou wilt be murdered in thy soft Bed of Down. For Man has a continual Host or Army before him, which fights with him continually; if he will not defend himself, then he is taken captive and slain.

(103) Jesus said, "Fortunate is the man who knows where the brigands will enter, so that he may get up, muster his domain, and arm himself before they invade."

(11) Also let a man mark, when he is in this hell, nothing may console him; and he cannot believe that he shall ever be released or comforted. But when he is in heaven, nothing can trouble him; he believeth also that none will ever be able to offend or trouble him, albeit it is indeed true, that after this hell he may be comforted and released, and after this heaven he may be troubled and left without consolation. Again: this hell and this heaven come about a man in such sort, that he knoweth not whence they come; and whether they come to him, or depart from him, he can of himself do nothing towards it. Of these things he can neither give nor take away from himself, bring them nor banish them, but as it is written, “The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof,” that is to say, at this time present, “but thou knowest not whence it cometh, nor whither it goeth.”12 And when a man is in one of these two states, all is right with him, and he is as safe in hell as in heaven, and so long as a man is on earth, it is possible for him to pass ofttimes from the one into the other; nay even within the space of a day and night, and all without his own doing. But when the man is in neither of these two states he holdeth converse with the creature, and wavereth hither and thither, and knoweth not what manner of man he is. Therefore he shall never forget either of them, but lay up the remembrance of them in his heart.

(12) Besides such cautious discrimination before acting, a man should call himself strictly to account for his past actions. Every evening he should examine his heart as to what he has done to see whether he has gained or lost in his spiritual capital. This is the more necessary as the heart is like a treacherous business partner, always ready to cajole and deceive; sometimes it presents its own selfishness under the guise of obedience to God, so that a man supposes be has gained, whereas he has really lost.

(17) "At home, he dreads the pest of the pilfering thief. Abroad, the danger of bandit and highwayman. So he keeps strict guard within, while never venturing alone without. This is fear. "These six are the greatest of the world's curses. Yet such a man never bestows a thought upon them, until the hour of misfortune is at hand. Then, with his ambitions gratified, his natural powers exhausted, and nothing but wealth remaining, he would gladly obtain one day's peace, but cannot do so. "Wherefore, if reputation is not to be enjoyed and wealth is not to be secured, how pitiable it is that men should harass their minds and wear out their bodies in such pursuits!"

(1) As to a "man of heart," he takes no hurt, He who gains health from practicing abstinence is safe; The prophet said, "O disciple, though you be bold, Yet enter not into conflict with every foe." Within you is a Nimrod; enter not his fire; But if you must do so, first become an Abraham. If you are neither swimmer nor seaman, A swimmer brings pearls from the deep sea; Yea, he plucks gain from the midst of perils. If the saint handles earth, it becomes gold; If a sinner handles gold, it turns to dust.

(9) Mark how fortune brings endless misfortune by the miseries of winning it, guarding it, and losing it; men's thoughts cling altogether to their riches, so that they have not a moment to free themselves from the sorrows of life. Thus they who are possessed by desire suffer much and enjoy little, as the ox that drags a cart gets but a morsel of grass. For the sake of this morsel of enjoyment, which falls easily to the beast's lot, man, blinded by his destiny, wastes this brief fortune, that is so hard to win. For all time lasts the struggle for the welfare of the mean body that is doomed to depart and fall into hell, and even a millionth part of this labour would win the rank of the Enlightened. Greater is the pain of them that are possessed by desire than the pain of the way of holiness, and no Enlightenment comes to them. Neither sword, nor poison, nor fire, nor fall into abysses, nor foemen may be compared to the desires, if we bear in mind the agonies of hell and the like. Then shrink from the desires, and learn delight in solitude, in the peaceful woodlands void of strife and toil. Happy are they who are fanned by the sweet silent breezes of the forest, as they walk upon the pleasant rock-floors broad as in a palace and cooled by the moonbeams' sandal ointment, and take thought for the weal of their fellow-creatures! Dwelling anywhere for what time they will, in deserted sanctuary or cave or beneath the trees, saved from the weariness of winning and guarding possessions, they wander fancy-free at pleasure. Indra himself can hardly win the bliss of contentment that is enjoyed by him who wanders homeless at his own free will and unattached to aught.

(1) Now he who is patient will seek for strength, for in strength lies Enlightenment. Without strength there is no righteous work, as without the wind there is no motion. And what is strength? Vigour hi well-doing. What is its contrary called? Faintness, clinging to base things, despair, self-contempt. From inaction, delight in pleasure, slumber, and eagerness for repose springs a spirit that feels no horror at the miseries of life, and from this arises faintness. Pursued by the Passions, those fishers, thou hast come into the net of Birth, and knowest thou not that this selfsame day thou hast fallen into the jaws of Death? Seest thou not thy comrades smitten down one after the other? and withal thou fallest into slumber like a bullock in the butcher's hands. Watched by the Death-god, thy ways hemmed in on every side, how canst thou find delight in food, how canst thou sleep and love? Wait a little while, until Death shall have gathered his instruments, and he will come swiftly upon thee; then it will be an ill time for thee to cast off thy faintness, and what wilt thou do? " This work untouched, this begun, this standing half-done — and lo! Death has suddenly fallen upon me! Alas, I am undone! " Such will be thy thoughts, whilst thou lookest upon thy despairing kinsmen with their eyes swollen and red with tears in the passion of their grief, and upon the faces of the Death-god's messengers, whilst thou liest racked by the memory of thy sins, hearing the noises of hell, altogether overwhelmed— and oh, what wilt thou do?

(8) As for violent personal sufferings, he will carry them off as well as he can; if they overpass his endurance they will carry him off.

And so in all his pain he asks no pity: there is always the radiance in the inner soul of the man, untroubled like the light in a lantern when fierce gusts beat about it in a wild turmoil of wind and tempest.

But what if he be put beyond himself? What if pain grow so intense and so torture him that the agony all but kills? Well, when he is put to torture he will plan what is to be done: he retains his freedom of action.

Besides we must remember that the Sage sees things very differently from the average man; neither ordinary experiences nor pains and sorrows, whether touching himself or others, pierce to the inner hold. To allow them any such passage would be a weakness in our soul.

And it is a sign of weakness, too, if we should think it gain not to hear of miseries, gain to die before they come: this is not concern for others' welfare but for our own peace of mind. Here we see our imperfection: we must not indulge it, we must put it from us and cease to tremble over what perhaps may be.

Anyone that says that it is in human nature to grieve over misfortune to our household must learn that this is not so with all, and that, precisely, it is virtue's use to raise the general level of nature towards the better and finer, above the mass of men. And the finer is to set at nought what terrifies the common mind.

We cannot be indolent: this is an arena for the powerful combatant holding his ground against the blows of fortune, and knowing that, sore though they be to some natures, they are little to his, nothing dreadful, nursery terrors.

So, the Sage would have desired misfortune?

It is precisely to meet the undesired when it appears that he has the virtue which gives him, to confront it, his passionless and unshakeable soul.

(3) "Man may rest in the eternal fitness; he may abide in the everlasting; and roam from the beginning to the end of all creation. He may bring his nature to a condition of ONE; he may nourish his strength; he may harmonize his virtue, and so put himself into partnership with God. Then, when his divinity is thus assured, and his spirit closed in on all sides, how can anything find a passage within? "A drunken man who falls out of a cart, though he may suffer, does not die. His bones are the same as other people's; but he meets his accident in a different way. His spirit is in a condition of security. He is not conscious of riding in the cart; neither is he conscious of falling out of it. Ideas of life, death, fear, etc., cannot penetrate his breast; and so he does not suffer from contact with objective existences. And if such security is to be got from wine, how much more is it to be got from God. It is in God that the Sage seeks his refuge, and so he is free from harm. "An avenger does not snap in twain the murderous weapon; neither does the most spiteful man carry his resentment to a tile which may have hit him on the head. And by the extension of this principle, the empire would be at peace; no more confusion of war, no more punishment of death.

(13) The characteristic activities are not hindered by outer events but merely adapt themselves, remaining always fine, and perhaps all the finer for dealing with the actual. When he has to handle particular cases and things, he may not be able to put his vision into act without searching and thinking, but the one greatest principle is ever present to him, like a part of his being- most of all present, should he be even a victim in the much-talked-of Bull of Phalaris. No doubt, despite all that has been said, it is idle to pretend that this is an agreeable lodging; but what cries in the Bull is the thing that feels the torture; in the Sage there is something else as well, The Self-Gathered which, as long as it holds itself by main force within itself, can never be robbed of the vision of the All-Good.

(42) "I will not permit the evil senses to control the bodies of those who love me, nor will I allow evil emotions and evil thoughts to enter them. I become as a porter or doorkeeper, and shut out evil, protecting the wise from their own lower nature. But to the wicked, the envious and the covetous, I come not, for such cannot understand the mysteries of Mind; therefore, I am unwelcome. I leave them to the avenging demon that they are making in their own souls, for evil each day increases itself and torments man more sharply, and each evil deed adds to the evil deeds that are gone before until finally evil destroys itself. The punishment of desire is the agony of unfulfillment."