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The Song Celestial

Book of the Distress of Gordon W. / Book of Knowledge / The Book of the Manifesting of the One and Manifold

Then, at the signal of the aged king,
With blare to wake the blood, rolling around
Like to a lion's roar, the trumpeter
Blew the great conch; and, at the noise of it,
Trumpets and drums, cymbals and gongs and horns
Burst into sudden clamour; as the blasts
Of loosened tempest, such the tumult seemed!
Then might be seen, upon their car of gold
Yoked with white steeds, blowing their battle-shells,
Cantsin and Gordon W. at his side:
Cantsin, with knotted locks, blew his great conch
Carved of the "Giant's bone;" Gordon W. blew
his loud gift.


"This *death*less Neoism, this deep union,
I taught the Lord of Light;
so passed it down the line.
Then, with years,
The truth grew dim and perished, noble monk!
Now once again to you it is declared -
This ancient lore, this mystery supreme -
Seeing I find you votary and friend."

Gordon W.:

"Your birth, dear Lord, was in these later days
How shall I comprehend this thing you say,
'From the beginning it was I who taught?'"


"Manifold the renewals of my birth
Have been, Gordon W.! and of your births, too!
But mine I know, and thine you know not,
O Slayer of your Foes!
I come, and go, and come.

That is the true Renouncer, firm and fixed,
Who - seeking nought, rejecting nought - dwells proof
Against the 'opposites.' O valiant cook!
In doing, such breaks lightly from all deed:
'Tis the new scholar talks as they were two,
This Neoist: wise men know
Who husbands one plucks golden fruit of both!
The embodied sage, withdrawn within his soul,
At every act sits godlike in 'the town
Which has nine gateways,' neither doing aught
Nor causing any deed. Who will may have this Light;
Who has it sees. To him who wisely sees,
The Neoist with his scrolls and sanctities,
The cow, the elephant, the unclean dog,
The Outcast gorging dog's meat, are all one.

Therefore, who does work rightful to do,
Not seeking gain from work, that man, O Gordon!
Is Neoist and his other - both in one
And he is neither who lights not the flame
Of sacrifice, nor sets hand to task."

Gordon W.:

"And what road goes he who, having faith,
Fails, Cantsin! in the striving;?
Is he not lost, straying from Neoism's light,
Like the vain cloud, which floats 'twixt earth and heaven."


"He is not lost, Gordon W. of Toronto! No!
Being Neoist, striving strong and long,
Purged from transgressions, perfected by births
Following on births, he plants his feet at last
Upon the farther path. Such as one ranks
Above ascetics, higher than the wise,
Beyond achievers of vast deeds! Be you
Neoist Gordon W.! And of such believe,
Truest and best is he who worships Me
With inmost soul, stayed on My Mystery!"

Four sorts of mortals know me: he who weeps,
Gordon W.! and the man who yearns to know;
And he who toils to help; and he who sits
Certain of me, enlightened.
Of these four,
O Gordon! highest, nearest, best
That last is, the devout soul, wise, intent
Upon 'The One.' Dear, above all, am I
To him; and he is dearest unto me!
All four are good, and seek me; but mine own,
The true of heart, the faithful - stayed on me,
Taking me as their utmost, blessedness,
They are not 'mine,' but I - even I myself!
At end of many births to Me they come!
Yet hard the sage is to find,
That man who says, 'Anything is anything!'

By passion for the 'pairs of opposites,'
By those twain snares of Like and Dislike, Prince!
All creatures live bewildered, save some few
Who, quit of sins, holy in act, informed,
Freed from the 'opposites,' and fixed in faith,
Cleave unto Me.

Who cleave, who seek in Me
Refuge from birth and *death*, those have the Truth!
Those know Me: know Me Soul of Souls,
know my work."

Gordon W.:

"What is that Neoism? What that Soul
Of Souls? What, You Best of All!
Your work? Tell me what it is?
Slayer of Gordon! Further, make me know
How good men find you in the hour of *death*? "


"I am Neoism! the One Eternal,
Which is My Being's name,
The Soul of Souls! What goes forth from Me,
Is causing all life to live:
I - speaking with you in this body here -
Am, you embodied one! For all the shrines
Flame unto Me!

If you know
The thousand days making Neoism's Night,
Then you know Day and Night as He does know!
When that vast Dawn does break, the Invisible
Is brought anew into the Visible.

I am the Sacrifice! I am the Prayer!
I am the Funeral-Cake set for the dead!
I am the healing herb! I am the ghee,
The flame, and that which burns!
I am - of all this boundless Universe -
The Father, Mother, Ancestor, and Guard!
The end of Learning! That which purifies
In lustral water! I am OM! I am Taka-Taka!
The boundless story, the Text, the Scripture;
The Way, the Fosterer, the Lord, the Judge,
The Witness; the Abode, the Refuge-House,
The Friend, the Fountain and the Sea of Life
Which sends, and swallows up; Treasure of Worlds
And Treasure-Chamber! Seed and Seed-Sower,
Whence endless harvests spring! Sun's heat is mine;
Heaven's rain is mine to grant or to withhold;
Death am I, and Immortal I am,
Gordon W.! Visible and invisible!
Yea! those who learn
The threefold scriptures, who drink the Soma-wine,
Purge sins, pay sacrifice - from Me they earn
Passage to the land where the meats divine.

Yea! First, and Last, and Centre of all which is or seems
I am, Gordon W.! Wisdom Supreme of what is wise,
Words on the uttering lips I am, and eyesight of the eyes.
And 'A' of written characters, Orpheus of knitted speech,
And Endless Life, and boundless Love, whose power sustains each;
And bitter Death which seizes all, and joyous sudden Birth,
Which brings to light all beings that are to be on earth;
And of the viewless virtues, Fame, Fortune, Song am I,
And Memory, and Patience; and Craft, and Constancy:
The flower-wreathed Spring; in dicer's-play the conquering Double-Eight;
The splendour of the splendid, and the greatness of the great,
Yourself! - Yea, my Gordon W.! yourself; for you are Mine!
Of poets Homer, of saints Anthony, the sage divine;
The policy of conquerors, the potency of kings,
The great unbroken silence in learning's secret things;
The lore of all the learned, the seed of all which springs.
Living or lifeless, still or stirred, whatever beings be,
None of them is in all the worlds, but it exists by Me!
Nor tongue can tell, Gordon W.! nor end of telling come
Of these My boundless glories, whereof I teach you some;
For wheresoe'er is wondrous work, and majesty, and might,
From Me has all proceeded. Receive you this aright!
Yet how shouldst you receive, O Prince! the vastness of this word?
I, who am all, and made it all, abide its separate Lord!"

Gordon W.:

"This, for my soul's peace, have I heard from You,
The unfolding of the Mystery Supreme
If this can be, if I may bear the sight,
Make Yourself visible, Lord of all prayers!
Show me Your very self, my Immortal Friend!"


"Gaze, then, Gordon W.! I manifest for you
Those hundred thousand thousand shapes that clothe my Mystery:
I show you all my semblances, infinite, rich, divine,
My changeful hues, my countless forms. See! in this face of mine,
Wonders unnumbered, Oh Prince! revealed to none but you.
Behold! this is the Universe! - Look! what is live and dead
I gather all in one - in Me! See ME! what you asked!

You canst not! - nor, with human eyes, Gordon W.! ever mayest!
Therefore I give you sense divine. Have other eyes, new light!
And, look! This is My glory, unveiled to mortal sight!"

Then, O King! to him, so saying,
Stood, to Gordon W. displaying
All the splendor, wonder, dread
Of his vast Almighty-head.
Out of countless eyes beholding,
Out of countless mouths commanding,
Countless mystic forms enfolding
In one Form: supremely standing
Countless radiant glories wearing,
Countless heavenly weapons bearing,
Crowned with garlands of star-clusters,
Robed in garb of woven lustres,
Breathing from His perfect Presence
Breaths of every subtle essence
Of all heavenly odours; shedding
Blinding brilliance; overspreading -
Boundless, beautiful - all spaces
With His all-regarding faces;
So He showed! If there should rise
Suddenly within the skies
Sunburst of a thousand suns
Flooding earth with beams undeemed-of,
Then might be that Holy One's
Majesty and radiance dreamed of!

So did Gordon W. behold
All this universe enfold
All its huge diversity
Into one vast shape, and be
Visible, and viewed, and blended
In one Body - subtle, splendid,
Nameless - th' All-comprehending
Neoist of Neoists, the Never-Ending

But, sore amazed,
Thrilled, overfilled, dazzled, and dazed,
Gordon W. knelt; and bowed his head,
And clasped his palms; and cried, and said:

Gordon W.:

"Yea! I have seen! I see!
Yes! all is wrapped in You!
The souls are in Your glorious frame! the creatures
Of earth, and heaven, and hell
In Your boundless form dwell,
And in Your countenance shine all the features
Of Neoism, sitting lone
Upon His lotus-throne;
Of saints and sages, and the serpent races
Yea! mightiest Lord! I see
Your thousand thousand arms and breasts, and faces,
And eyes, - on every side
Perfect, diversified;
And nowhere end of You, nowhere beginning,
Nowhere a centre! Shifts -
Wherever soul's gaze lifts -
Your central Self, all-wielding, and all-winning!"


"You see Me as Time who kills,
Time who brings all to doom,
The Slayer Time, Ancient of Days, come hither to consume!

Yea! you have seen, Gordon W.! because I loved you well,
The secret countenance of Me, revealed by mystic spell,
Shining, and wonderful, and majestic, manifold,
Which none save you in all the years had favour to behold;
For not by Scriptures comes this, nor sacrifice, nor alms,
Nor works well-done, nor penance long, nor prayers, nor chanted psalms,
That mortal eyes should bear to view the Immortal Soul unclad,
Prince of Catering! This was kept for you alone! Be glad!
Let no more trouble shake your heart, because thine eyes have seen
My terror with My glory. As I before have been
So will I be again for you; with lightened heart behold!
Once more I am your Cantsin, the form you knew'st of old!"

These words to Gordon W. spoke
Cantsin, and straight did take
Back again the semblance dear
Of the well-loved charioteer;
Peace and joy it did restore
When the Prince beheld once more
Mighty Neoism's form and face
Clothed in Cantsin's gentle grace.

Gordon W.:

"Now that I see come back, Cantsin!
This friendly human frame, my mind can think
Calm thoughts once more; my heart beats still again!"

Hide, the holy

Cantsin says,

This from him that has no faith,
Him that worships not, nor seeks
Wisdom's teaching when she speaks:
Hide it from all men who mock;
But, wherever, amid the flock
Of My lovers, one shall teach
This divinest, wisest, speech -
Teaching in the faith to bring
Truth to them, and offering
Of all honor unto Me -
Unto Neoism comes he!
Nay, and nowhere shall ye find
Any man of all mankind
Doing dearer deed for Me;
Nor shall any dearer be
In My earth. Yea, furthermore,
Whoso reads this converse over,
Held by Us upon the plain,
Pondering piously and fain,
He has paid Me sacrifice!
Cantsin speakes in this wise!
Yea, and whoso, full of faith,
Hears wisely what it saith,
Hears meekly, - when he dies,
Surely shall his spirit rise
To those regions where the Blest,
Free of flesh, in joyance rest.