Be killed, or die, as in thy lot may be decreed. So with pomegranates, apples, when sliced up at need. The sweet and sound are prized, and straightway put to use; The sour and rotten cast away, worthless refuse. A word with sense and meaning’s ever eloquent; Bald nonsense is laughed down in scorn or merriment. Thou fool, materialist! Think closer: look to sense.[115] The spirit ’tis gives value; words are mere pretence. Prefer the company of those who spirit seek. So mayst thou grace attain,—“God’s servant be,”[116] and meek. 400 A life without a soul or spirit in our frame, Like wooden sword in sheath, were but a senseless name. Within its sheath while kept, of value it may seem; When drawn, ’tis only fit for matchwood, men will deem, Arm not thyself with wooden sword in battle’s day. Examine well thy weapon, if thou ’d have fair play. Shouldst find thy sword of wood, another seek forthwith; If adamant it prove to be, then join thy kith. The truest swords are found in th’ arm’ry of the saints. Their converse is to thee a balm for all complaints. 405 The wise have ever said, with uniform accord: “Most truly wise was he, ‘the Mercy of the Lord.’”[117] Dost buy a pomegranate? A burst fruit still elect. The crack reveals its grains; thou seest they’ve no defect. E’en so, good friend, blest be the man whose mouth reveals The heart-thought pearls their casket, his pure soul, conceals. But inauspicious is the opening tulip’s crack; This patent makes to all that its heartcore is black. The burst pomegranate is a sunny orchard’s pride. So speech of worthy men may waft thee to truth’s side. 410 Society with saints no doubt’s of great avail; To piety it leads; “God’s fear shall never fail.”[118] Thou wast a very rock, a worthless pebble stone; By saints’ communion fined, a pearl of price thou’st shone. Then love the saints. Their love plant deeply in thy heart. The pure of mind alone deserve a pure love’s part. Court not despair; hope ever springs in human breast. Seek not the dark; the Sun of Light shines full confest. The spirit ever leads to haunts of holy men; The flesh would cast thee in the pit of sin again. 415 Beware! Feed thou thy soul with love from holy ground. Make haste! Seek means of grace from one who grace has found. Petition make! Seize hold upon the skirts of saints. Through them thou’lt learn how God his favour grants. The Gospel names the name of Ahmed;[119] he the last, As chief of prophets;--purity’s bright ocean, vast. His lineaments, his virtues, ways of matchless good; With notice of his wars, his fasts, and eke his food, Some Christian folks, on mention of that sacred name, And this recital of his qualities and fame, 420