There be those, too, whose knowledge, turned aside By this desire or that, gives them to serve Some lower gods, with various rites, constrained By that which mouldeth them. Unto all such-- Worship what shrine they will, what shapes, in faith-- 'Tis I who give them faith! I am content! The heart thus asking favour from its God, Darkened but ardent, hath the end it craves, The lesser blessing--but 'tis I who give! Yet soon is withered what small fruit they reap: Those men of little minds, who worship so, Go where they worship, passing with their gods. But Mine come unto me! Blind are the eyes Which deem th' Unmanifested manifest, Not comprehending Me in my true Self! Imperishable, viewless, undeclared, Hidden behind my magic veil of shows, I am not seen by all; I am not known-- Unborn and changeless--to the idle world. But I, Arjuna! know all things which were, And all which are, and all which are to be, Albeit not one among them knoweth Me!