The Lord hath said: “Imagining’s of no avail.”[371] Imagination’s steed to scale heaven’s heights must fail. Imagination’s best is but a choice of doubts; Man ne’er disputes about the sun, whate’er the whim he flouts. The time will come, he’ll see what wretched screw he rides; That which he deemed a courser’s but his own shanks’ sides. His senses, thoughts, and reasonings, he then will find, Are but the infant’s hobby,--pa’s cane, more refined. 20 The wisdom of the saints is what bears them aloft. The science of the worldly is their load;--how oft! The wisdom of the heart sustains and elevates; But knowledge sensuously acquired as burden rates. ’Tis God hath said: “An ass with volumes for his load.”[372] So knowledge is a burden, when not of God’s code. All science not received from word of God direct, Hath no endurance; paint it is; our eyes detect. Still, if man bear his burden well, he’s recompensed; His burden is removed; ease to him is dispensed. 25 See, then, you bear not science’ load from fleshly lust; Lest you should suffer inwardly fatigue,--disgust; But mount the agile steed of sacred lore divine; So shall the burden on your back at once decline. Unless you drink His cup, how ’scape from fleshly lust? O you, who, in His name, content are with the Just! When from His name and attributes some inkling’s born, This inkling points the road to union one fair morn. Thou’st never known a guide, but some one must be led; And when no road is travelled, gnome can’t dog man’s tread. 30 Thou’st never heard a name, but indicates a thing; A flower thou’st never plucked from verbal _rosa_’s ding. Hast thou pronounced a name? Straightway the thing ensue. The moon seek in the sky;--not in lake-waters, blue. But wouldst thou cast aside all names and words, as vain, Thyself, then, purge of self. Abstraction thou shalt gain. Wouldst be a sword? Cast off soft iron’s yield refined; By discipline the mirror burnish of thy mind. Discharge thyself of every particle of self; So shalt thou see thyself pure, free from soil of pelf. 35 Within thy heart thou’lt see the wisdom of the saints, Without a book, a teacher, or professor’s plaints.