續高僧傳 18.16.4

18.16.4

遷曰。 世有三尊各有光明。 其用異也。 帝曰。 何者是耶。 答曰。 佛為世尊。 道為天尊。 帝為至尊。 尊有恒政不可並治。 所以佛道弘教開示來業。 故放神光除其罪障。 陛下光明充于四海。 律令法式禁止罪源。 即大光也。 帝大悅。 遷美容儀善風韻。 故臨機答對如此。 又器宇恢雅。 含垢藏疾。 妙於定門練精戒品。 天性仁慈寡於貪競。 雖帝王贈捨遠近獻餉。 一無自給並資僧眾。 或濟接貧薄。 追崇圖塔。 又不重厚味。 不飾華綺。 內有關籥外屏名利。 顯助弘道冥心幽隱。 立志清簡不雜交遊。 時俗頗以疎傲為論。 深鑒國士而體其虛心應物也。 凡有言述理無不當。 皆能遣滯顯旨深矣。 故遠公每云。 遷禪師破執入理。 此長勝我。 斯言合也。 而詞旨典正有文章。 焉。 雖才人沈欝含豪。 未能加也。 夙感風痿之疾。 運盡重增卒於禪定。 春秋六十有六。 即大業三年十二月六日也。 葬於終南北麓勝光寺之山園。 鑿石刻銘樹于墳所。 當停柩之日。 有一白犬不知何來。 徑至喪所。 雖遭遮約終不肯去。 見人哀哭犬亦號叫。 見人止哭犬亦無聲。 與食不噉。 常於喪所右縈而臥。 既輿柩隨行。 犬便前後奔走。 似如監護之使。 及下葬訖。 便失所在。 識者以犬為防畜。 將非冥衛所加乎。 初未終之前。 有夢禪定佛殿東傾。 數人扶之還正。 惟東北一柱陷地。 拔之不出。 遷房屬於陷角。 故有先驗之徵。 既卒之後。 有沙門專誠祈請欲知生處。 乃夢見淨土嚴麗故倍常傳。 寶樹宮闕欝然相峙。 道俗徒侶有數千人。 遷獨處金臺為眾說法。 雖夢通虛實。 而靈感猶希。 況隨請而知。 故當降靈非謬矣。 所撰攝論疏十卷。 年別再敷。 每舉法輪諸講停務。 皆傾渴奔注有若不足也。 又撰楞伽起信唯識如實等疏九識四月等章華嚴明難品玄解總二十餘卷。 並行於世。 有沙門明則。 為之行狀覼縷終始見重京師。

Qian said: “In the world there are Three Venerables, each having light, and their functions differ.”
The Emperor asked: “What are they?”
He answered: “The Buddha is the World-Honoured One (Lokajyeṣṭha). The Dao is the Heavenly Venerable (Tianzhun). The Emperor is the Supreme Venerable (Zhizun). Each venerable has their constant governance and they cannot be governed in the same manner. Therefore, the Buddha and the Dao spread teachings to reveal future karma, and thus emit divine light to eliminate sinful hindrances. Your Majesty's light fills the four seas; your penal codes and statutory models prohibit the source of sins, which is itself a great light.” The Emperor was overjoyed.
Qian possessed a handsome appearance and deportment, and was skilled in manner and elegance; hence he answered and responded spontaneously in this way. Moreover, his capacity was expansive and refined; he concealed defects and bore offenses. He was subtle in the gates of samādhi and refined in the categories of precepts. By nature he was benevolent and compassionate, and had little desire for competition. Although emperors and kings offered donations and those near and far presented gifts, he kept nothing for himself, giving all to support the saṅgha, or to relieve the impoverished, and to construct stūpas and images. Furthermore, he did not value rich flavors nor did he adorn himself in splendors. Internally he guarded himself, and externally he rejected fame and profit; he openly assisted the propagation of the Dharma while his mind dwelt in seclusion. He established his aspirations on purity and simplicity, not mingling in social intercourse. People of the time often considered him aloof and proud, but men of profound discernment recognized him as an eminent talent and understood that he responded to things with an open mind.
Whenever he spoke or wrote, his reasoning was invariably appropriate; he could dispel obstructions and clarify profound purports. Therefore Master Huiyuan often said: “Dhyāna Master Qian breaks attachments and penetrates principle; in this excellence he surpasses me.” This remark was indeed fitting. His diction was canonical and upright, possessing literary elegance; even when accomplished writers reflected deeply and held their brushes, they could not surpass him.
He had long suffered from wind-paralysis. When his lifespan came to an end, it worsened, and he died at Chanding [Monastery] at the age of sixty-six, on the sixth day of the twelfth month in the third year of Daye. He was buried in the mountain garden of Shengguang Monastery on the northern slopes of Mount Zhongnan. A stone was chiseled, an epitaph carved, and erected at the tomb.
During the days when his coffin was laid out, a white dog arrived from nowhere and went straight to the funeral site. Even when driven away, it refused to leave. When it saw people wailing in grief, the dog also howled; when it saw people cease weeping, the dog made no sound. Given food, it would not eat, and constantly lay curled up to the right of the mourning hall. When the coffin was carried and moved forward, the dog ran back and forth before and behind, appearing like an attendant watching over it. Once the burial was completed, its whereabouts were lost. Those who understood considered that the dog was a guardian animal; was it not an escort sent by the unseen world?
Before his death, someone dreamed that the Buddha hall of Chanding tilted to the east, and several people propped it upright again, but only the northeast pillar sank into the ground and could not be pulled out. Qian’s room was in the sunken corner; thus it was an advance verification. After he died, a śramaṇa prayed with singular sincerity, wishing to know the place of his rebirth. He then dreamed of a pure land, splendid and twice as magnificent as normally transmitted, with jeweled trees and palace towers towering opposite one another. There were several thousand monastic and lay followers; Qian sat alone on a golden dais, expounding the Dharma for the assembly. Although dreams may be true or false, such spiritual resonances are rare; how much more so when known upon supplication, so his manifestation of spiritual power was surely no error.
He composed a commentary on the *Mahāyānasaṃgraha* in ten fascicles, which he expounded twice each year. Whenever he set turning the wheel of the Dharma, other lectures were suspended; all flocked and rushed to attend as if they could never get enough. He also composed commentaries on the *Laṅkāvatāra*, the *Awakening of Faith*, the *Vijñaptimātra*, and the *Tattvasiddhi*, treatises on the *Nine Consciousnesses* and the *Four Moons*, and a profound exposition of the “Clarifying Difficulties” chapter of the *Avataṃsaka*, totaling more than twenty fascicles, all circulating in the world. The śramaṇa Mingze wrote a detailed account of his life from beginning to end, which was held in high esteem in the capital.