There is nothing greater than I; all things hang on me, as precious
gems upon a string. . . . .  I am life in all things, and zeal in the
zealous.   I am the eternal seed of nature:   I am the understanding of
the wise, the glory of the proud, the strength of the strong, free
from lust and anger. . . .   Those who trust in me know Brahm, the
supreme and incorruptible. . . . .  In this body I am the teacher of
worship.   He who thinks of me will find me.   He who finds me returns
not again to mortal birth. . . . .  I am the sacrifice, I am the
worship, I am the incense, I am the fire, I am the victim, I am the
father and mother of the world; I am the road of the good, the
comforter, the creator, the witness, the asylum, and the friend. 
They who serve other Gods with a firm belief, involuntarily worship
me.   I am the same to all mankind.   They who serve me in adoration
are in me.   If one whose ways are ever so evil serve me alone, he
becometh of a virtuous spirit and obtaineth eternal happiness.   Even
women, and the tribes of Visya and Soodra, shall go the supreme
journey if they take sanctuary with me; how much more my holy
servants the Brahmins and the Ragarshees!   Consider this world as a
finite and joyless place, and serve me.

There may be confused words scattered up and down here; there are still more confused words—­not immoral ones—­round them, which we have omitted; but we ask, once and for all, is this true, or is it not?  Is there a being who answers to this description, or is there not?  And if there be, was it not a light price to pay for the discovery of Him “to sit upon the sacred grass called koos, with his mind fixed on one object alone; keeping his head, neck, and body steady, without motion; his eyes fixed upon the point of his nose, looking at no other place around”—­or any other simple, even childish, practical means of getting rid of the disturbing bustle and noise of the outward time-world, that he might see the eternal world which underlies it?  What if the discovery be imperfect, the figure in many features erroneous?  Is not the wonder to us, the honour to him, that the figure should be there at all?  Inexplicable to us on any ground, save that one common to the Bhagavat-Gita, to the gospel.  “He who seeks me shall find me.”  What if he knew but in part, and saw through a glass darkly?  Was there not an inspired apostle, who could but say the very same thing of himself, and look forward to a future life in which he would “know even as he was known”?

It is well worth observing too, that so far from the moral of this Bhagavat-Gita issuing in mere contemplative Quietism, its purpose is essentially practical.  It arises out of Arjoun’s doubt whether he shall join in the battle which he sees raging below him; it results in his being commanded to join in it, and fight like a man.  We cannot see, as Mr. Vaughan does, an “unholy indifference” in the moral.  Arjoun shrinks from fighting because friends and relatives are engaged on both sides, and he dreads hell if he kills one of them.  The answer to his doubt is, after all, the only one which makes war permissible to a Christian, who looks on all men as his brothers: