rue and single, of a surety your request will be granted.
Now, this is not a mere statement made by Nichiren, the holy founder
of this sect; it is the sacred teaching of Buddha himself, and may not
be doubted."

"Nammiyo! nammiyo!" with profound conviction.

"The heart of man is, by nature, upright and true; but there are seven
passions[85] by which it is corrupted. Buddha is alarmed when he sees
the fires by which the world is being consumed. These fires are the
five lusts of this sinful world; and the five lusts are, the desire
for fair sights, sweet sounds, fragrant smells, dainty meats, and rich
trappings. Man is no sooner endowed with a body than he is possessed
by these lusts, which become his very heart; and, it being a law that
every man follows the dictates of his heart, in this way the body, the
lusts of the flesh, the heart, and the dictates of the heart, blaze up
in the consuming fire. 'Alas! for this miserable world!' said the
divine Buddha."

[Footnote 85: The seven passions are joy, anger, sadness, fear, love,
hatred, and desire.]

"Nammiyo! nammiyo!" mournful, and with much head-shaking.

"There is not so foul thing under heaven as the human body. The body
exudes grease, the eyes distil gums, the nose is full of mucus, the
mouth of slobbering spittle; nor are these the most impure secretions
of the body. What a mistake it is to look upon this impure body as
clean and perfect! Unless we listen to the teachings of Buddha, how
shall we be washed and purified?"

"Nammiyo, nammiyo!" from an impure and very miserable sinner, under
ten years of age.

"The lot of man is uncertain, and for ever running out of the beaten
track. Why go to look at the flowers, and take delight in their
beauty? When you return home, you will see the vanity of your
pleasure. Why purchase fleeting joys of loose women? How long do you
retain the delicious taste of the dainties you feast upon? For ever
_wishing_ to do this, _wishing_ to see that, _wishing_ to eat rare
dishes, _wishing_ to wear fine clothes, you pass a lifetime in fanning
the flames which consume you. What terrible matter for thought is
this! In the poems of the priest Saigiyo it is written, 'Verily I have
been familiar with the flowers; yet are they withered and scattered,
and we are parted. How sad!' The beauty of the convolvulus, how bright
it is!--and yet in one short morning it closes its petals and fades.
In the book called _Rin Jo Bo Satsu_[86] we are told