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.
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